


Arsonist Summer

by NutterForButter



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Although it won't be that in depth, Beauxbatons, Canon-Typical Violence, China, Chinese Mythology & Folklore, Durmstrang, Ensemble Cast, F/M, Fantasy, Friendship, Gen, Gods, Harry Potter Next Generation, Hogwarts Inter-House Friendships, I am making other branches based in other cultures of the world, Magical Theory (Harry Potter), Muggle/Wizard Geopolitical differences, Muggle/Wizard Relations, Not Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Compliant, Pureblood Culture (Harry Potter), Pureblood Society (Harry Potter), School Life, Wandless Magic, Wizarding Culture (Harry Potter), Wizarding World (Harry Potter), Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:40:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 67,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25436308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NutterForButter/pseuds/NutterForButter
Summary: The last time Auguste Nicolay saw his best friend Vega Lang, was at the latter's grandfather's funeral, when Auguste and Vega were nine years old. A few months later, a serial spree of arson destroyed many of the most ancient pureblood families in China, Vega's family being the first.At the beginning of Auguste's sixth year at Hogwarts, Vega and eight other Beauxbatons students spontaneously appear in the middle of the Great Hall, amidst blood, smoke, and ritual fire. Who attacked the french school? What political turmoil and new dark wizards and witches are making movements in France, in Europe, possibly globally?More importantly--to Auguste's mind, at least--where has Vega been these last six years? Does the genocide in China have anything to do with the attack on Beauxbatons?*working title, may change at any time
Comments: 6
Kudos: 3





	1. In which Auguste meets Vega again, but she does not meet him

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!
> 
> This is a writing exercise and a world-building exercise. I don't know how often I can update. It's more that I think I want to give writing a long fanfiction a go before I try my hand at original fiction. It's also my first fanfic, so please bear with me on a lot of fronts, at least until I get used to things--formatting, structure, etc.
> 
> I welcome constructive criticism and suggestions. I'm making quite a bit of this up as I go. A lot of the genealogies are completed, since I'm working with original characters. That being said, I am including some of the next generation HP characters, thus all the families listed as character tags. I haven't watched or read Cursed Child, but I know enough about it that I can definitively say this is not Cursed Child compliant. Other than that, it is mostly based on canon. (In my mind, Cursed Child is only, "canon" according to J.K. Rowling because she most likely signed a contract when she let others write the script, so she was obliged to say such a thing. I have no intention of using it.)
> 
> *14 Jan 2021 - I only just remembered that it's probably best that I let y'all know that part of this writing exercise is to write about the "hero" archetype without ever writing in his/her POV. I'm afraid of falling into the Mary Sue trap, and I wondered if writing in other people's POVs -- those around Mary Sue/Gary Stu -- would offset that icky feeling of reading about an OP'd character. Hopefully that makes sense.

_Autumn, 2020, Scotland_

_James Potter_

A flare of fire appeared in the Great Hall. Students sitting on either side of it shouted and pushed one another to get away from the flames, which died down in mere seconds. Left in its wake were a group of adolescents and children in various states of distress. They wore the uniform of another school. Most of them were injured, bleeding, or crying, especially the younger children. 

One of the older boys in the group took quick assessment of the hall. He sighed in relief when he spotted the high table. “Please help--”

Before he could finish, one of the girls in the group screamed in fear. She cried out,“Pierre! Vega a besoin d’aide, maintenant!” Meanwhile, she had wrapped her arms around another girl, who had collapsed on the ground.

James Potter could see that the girl on the ground was bleeding copiously. Her friend had pulled her muffler off to staunch the blood and apply pressure. Pierre looked alarmed as he joined her on the ground. The two of them spoke in rapid French under breath. 

Meanwhile, a younger child from the group had dashed up to the high table. “Please ‘elp us! Lang needs an ‘ealer. She transported us here from Beauxbatons. She saved us! She cannot die! Please ‘elp,” she begged.

Professors Delacour and Longbottom had been the first out of their seats, both with wands pointed at the group of students. When it became apparent that they were not a threat, they walked down to the group of students while Headmistress McGonagall cast a _sonorus_ on herself so she could be heard over the Great hall. 

“Quiet! Students, please sit and finish your meals. Professors Delacour and Longbottom will escort these newcomers to the infirmary,” she said. She stood up too, and joined the younger professors. It took some coaxing from Professor Delacour to get Pierre and his friend to allow her to levitate their bleeding friend out of the Great Hall. The rest of the group followed behind the French professor and the bleeding Beauxbatons student.

Professor McGonagall stayed behind and critically surveyed the spot where the schoolchildren had appeared. A double infinity symbol drawn in streaky splotchy brown covered the area. “Professor Flitwick, please stay after dinner ends. I need your expertise on this.”

Flitwick nodded. “Of course, Headmistress.”

McGonagall moved her wand in an arc over the double infinity symbol. A shimmering gold dome appeared over it. Satisfied with her wandwork, she exited the Great Hall. James assumed she was going to the infirmary to speak to the Beauxbatons students.

James turned to look at Louis. “How in Merlin’s name did they manage to apparate into Hogwarts?” 

Louis snorted. “They obviously didn’t apparate. Professor McGonagall knows that, which is why she put that shield over what looks like blood magic.” He dug into his stew with gusto. “I’m sure an explanation of how they managed it will trickle down the grapevine.”

Across the table from them, Lorcan Scamander laughed. “James, if you think too hard, you will lose your hair.”

James frowned at the younger boy. “Will the nargles make off with it, or something like that?”

“Of course not. Your hair tends to stick straight up whenever you concentrate on a tricky problem,” Lorcan said. “It’s very interesting humoral magic. Or … is it a family curse?”

  
  


As dinner wound down, and the dessert plates started vanishing, a few students started to leave the Great hall. Most lingered, however, hoping to see how McGonagall and Flitwick would deal with the mark on the ground, and what they would find out. James certainly wanted to know. He had chosen to eat at the Hufflepuff table with Louis that night, thus affording him a front row seat to the excitement. He and Louis looked over at the Gryffindor table. None of their cousins or siblings had left the Great hall either. 

James caught Fred’s eye. His cousin mouthed something at him. James nudged Louis. “What’s Fred trying to tell me?”

Louis looked over at their cousin. “I think he’s telling us to meet him in the kitchens later.”

“The kitchens? We just ate dinner? Why in the world would we go to the kitchens?” James wondered.

Louis rolled his eyes. “Hufflepuff is near the kitchens. He probably wants to meet so we can tell him what we saw tonight.”

“But I’m in Gryffindor! Isn’t it enough to ask me what happened?” James asked.

Louis shrugged. “You’re prone to melodramatics and exaggeration,” he said.

James gasped, covering his heart with one hand, and grabbing Louis’s arm with the other. “You wound me, my dearest, favorite cousin!” James cried.

Louis raised one eyebrow. Then promptly went back to his creme brulee. James laughed and slapped Louis’ back. “Yeah, all right,” he said. “Dessert is much more interesting than my feelings.”

Louis ignored him still. James sighed. “When are they going to examine the mark? My arse is going numb from sitting,” he whined.

At that moment, McGonagall returned. She looked at the full tables and James thought she must have iron discipline to not roll her eyes. 

McGonagall tapped her spoon against her goblet. Everyone quieted down. “Students, I understand everyone is curious about our new arrivals and their unorthodox travelling method,” she said. “I do not have all the pertinent facts yet. However, I can tell you this. Beauxbatons Academy of Magic was attacked earlier this evening. I am sure the newspapers will publish more on it tomorrow. I ask that you do not bother the beleaguered Beauxbatons students. They have had a traumatizing experience, and do not need any of you asking them to tell exciting tales for your entertainment. Am I understood?” She cast her gaze over each table, her eyes narrowing in warning.

“Well, what are you all waiting for? Off you go! Dinner is over,” she said, dismissing them.

James sighed. “So much for having front row seats,” he said.

Louis finally looked up from his creme brulee. “I would hope you’re not showing signs of clairvoyance or divining powers. You sat with me because you wanted to spend time with your cousin and young Lorcan, Aunt Luna’s child, not because you knew something out of the ordinary would happen beside the Hufflepuff table tonight,” Louis said crossly.

“All right, all right,” James said, “You don’t need to chastise me. I’d thought with Victoire and Dominique gone, there’d be less people nagging me at school. You needn’t pick up your sisters’ habits, Louis.”

As they walked out the door to the Great Hall, James noticed Auguste Nicolay, a Ravenclaw in their year, turn right around and walk back into the Great Hall. “Louis, what do you think he’s up to?”

Louis shrugged. “I don’t know, and I don’t care. It’s not our business. Come on. Fred’s waiting for us.”

\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

_Auguste Nicolay_

Auguste approached his professors, who were gathered around the mark on the floor. Someone had moved the house tables aside so there was more room in the center of the Great Hall.

Professor McGonagall noticed him first. “Why haven’t you gone back to your dormitory, Mr. Nicolay?”

“Professor McGonagall, I know what you told us earlier, but I wanted to ask a question,” Auguste said.

“Ask away,” McGonagall said.

“The student who urgently needed medical attention. Did you get her full name?” he asked.

McGonagall frowned. Before she could respond, he quickly asked, “Was it Vega Lang?”

McGonagall snapped her mouth closed, then opened it again to speak. “If you already knew who she was, Mr. Nicolay, why stand here and ask? What do you actually want to know?”

“I don’t mean to be impertinent, Professor. I’m asking because Vega and I are childhood friends. I haven’t seen her in years, though. You can imagine, then, how shocked I was when she appeared here, covered in blood!” Auguste replied. “I wanted to confirm her identity before braving what must be a packed infirmary, and also, to offer my advice with this.” Auguste pointed at the double infinity on the ground.

“Ah, yes. Very interesting piece of magic, isn’t it?” Professor Flitwick said. “Not quite a portkey, and not quite apparation. It’s in fact something more and less sophisticated at the same time.”

McGonagall actually rolled her eyes a bit. “Focus, Filius. You can ask Miss Lang all about her methods once Madame Pomfrey brings her out of her induced coma. For now, however, we need to remove the runes and ambient magic. It’s far too makeshift and therefore unstable a piece of magic to leave in the middle of the Great Hall.”

“She’s been placed in magical sleep?” Auguste asked.

“Yes,” McGonagall said, “She was magically exhausted, and the number of potions she had to ingest was astronomical. It will be far easier on her body and magical core to heal and absorb those potions with her in induced sleep.

“But enough. We’ve established Miss Lang’s identity, and you know where and how she is, Mr. Nicolay. If you have anything else to say about Miss Lang’s spell, do let us know. I would think you would rather go see her in the infirmary rather than linger here.”

“Well … the thing is, Professor Flitwick, Professor McGonagall, I really think I should stay. The Lang family magic is quite peculiar, and something seemingly innocuous might actually cause magical backlash. Since Vega is in induced sleep, I can go watch her sleep later. And it isn’t curfew yet. For personal and academic reasons, could I stay to watch the two of you dismantle her spell? Please,” Auguste said.

Professors Flitwick and McGonagall looked at each other. Flitwick said, “Well, the boy is right. It isn’t curfew. As long as he stands a fair distance back and keeps a shield up, I don’t see why we can’t let him watch and give some advice. Besides, Bathsheda, Mr. Nicolay, and I have been discussing the possibility of an extra OWL’s project for him. I think he could learn something from watching us dismantle foreign ritual magic.”

McGonagall mulled over Flitwick’s words before finally agreeing. Auguste smiled gratefully at Professor Flitwick. He walked to the other side of the Hufflepuff table to watch. 

  
  


Half an hour passed. Auguste had recast his shield twice now. Not that he had actually needed it. Nothing the professors tried seemed to dispel the ambient magic or clean what they realized was blood off the ground. There was however, a strong smell of ozone lingering in the Great Hall, in addition to smoke. 

Professors Flitwick and McGonagall were now debating whether the runes were an admixture of either Old Norse, medieval French, and Jiaguwen, or Gothic, medieval French, and Jiaguwen. 

“Minerva, I just don’t think that Latin spells would interact with Old Norse like this,” Professor Flitwick said.

“Well, it shouldn’t interact with Gothic quite this way, either. So do you think it’s the Jiaguwen that’s causing our spells to dissipate? Bathsheda is away at a conference. She won’t be back until Sunday evening. However, I’m not sure she’s ever studied Chinese runic magic,” Professor McGonagall said.

“Professor McGonagall? Professor Flitwick?” Auguste called.

“Yes?”

“Yes?”

“This might be completely wrong, but I don’t think Vega used the runes to locate Hogwarts. I think those were in place to make sure none of the students would splinch. I don’t know much Chinese, but I can recognize the characters for nine, human, flesh, fire, and blood,” Auguste said.

Both professors thoughtfully regarded him. 

Professor Flitwick turned back to examine the ground again, saying, “If the boy is correct, perhaps, Minerva, we would be better off deducing what Miss Lang did in order to land specifically here in Hogwarts first. We need to look at the other parts of the ritual, outside the runes. Personally, I find it curious that Miss Lang used a figure eight -- a double infinity -- for the ritual. Usually when we apparate, we spin in a circle. Portkeys, likewise, are made using concentric arithmantic circles. Actually, I wonder now, if Miss Lang even had a specific location in mind when she anchored her spell? Mr. Nicolay, is there any reason why your friend would know the location of Hogwarts?”

Auguste shook his head, a little surprised at the question. “No. Not at all, Professor. None of Vega’s family have ever attended Hogwarts. She probably knew it was in Scotland, but other than that, I don’t think she even knew the general direction of Hogsmeade, let alone the coordinates of Hogwarts,” he said.

“So if the runes are only to bind the bodies together, then that means something else helped her find Hogwarts, intentionally or not. The fire and the infinity is probably related in some way. If a phoenix can travel by flames, it stands to reason that a ritual fire cast with blood magic and the right arithmantic formula and runes can also transport. But why Hogwarts? We can probably assume that Beauxbatons’ anti-apparation wards came down during the attack, but what about Hogwarts’ wards?” Professor Flitwick mused. 

“Filius,” Professor McGonagall said, “I think the double infinity was meant to circumvent the anti-apparation wards. If I was in mortal peril, I would want to go to the safest place I could think of. Perhaps Miss Lang realized that the safest place to hide for nine injured children would be somewhere with anti-apparation wards? Somewhere inaccessible to others.”

“Yes, that makes sense!” Professor Flitwick cried. “Then the only question is what anchored the spell here?”

“Professor?” Auguste said.

“Yes?” answered Professor Flitwick.

“I have another suggestion.” 

“Suggest away, Mr. Nicolay!” said Professor Flitwick, smiling.

“Vega is a scion of the Lang family, one of the Southern Cardinal Houses from the Central Kingdom,” said Auguste. At the blank looks, he added, “Her family has great affinity for fire. However, they were the first to be murdered in the Arsonist Summer, six years ago. It must have been terrifying for her to find her family murdered by the same element which powers their family magic.”

It took a moment, but looks of understanding and sympathy flitted across both Professors’ faces after they processed the information.

“Ah!” Professor Flitwick exclaimed, “The poor girl. She has seen death, fire, and carnage before the attack at Beauxbatons tonight. Minerva, do you think she anchored the spell with memories? Her own memories of childhood, the living memory of the attack at Beauxbatons tonight, and the past battle here at Hogwarts?”

Professor McGonagall frowned. “Sympathetic magic sounds like a good theory. However, I don’t like it. It’s not symmetrical,” she said.

“What do you mean?” asked Professor Flitwick.

“Past, present, and past. It should be past, present, and future. I may not have any seer blood, but this … it does not bode well. It feels like an ill omen for the future,” she replied. She breathed deeply and sighed. “Nevermind that. So. Miss Lang used her memories to anchor the spell. What would dismantle it? Surely not more blood,” she said.

“Fire, Professor McGonagall,” Auguste interjected.

Both professors turned to look at him.

“Fire, Professor Flitwick, Professor McGonagall. Vega and the other students appeared in a ritual fire. It’s like Phoenix fire. As wizards and witches, we can’t inherently and naturally perform the same magic as a phoenix, but with a bit of magical ingenuity and splicing of different branches of magic …” Auguste trailed off with a shrug.

“I see!” Professor Flitwick said, a gleam in his eye, “Your friend already had magical fire. The blood and runes substituted the other parts. So all we have to do is set this all on fire!”

“Can it really be so simple, Filius?” Professor McGonagall asked, looking doubtful.

“Whyever not, Minerva? The simplest solution is invariably the most likely solution,” said Professor Flitwick. He turned to address Auguste. “Mr. Nicolay, put up your shield.”

Auguste did as he was told. His head of house nodded, then waved his wand over the ritual markings. It caught fire _spectacularly_ , burning bright blue for a few seconds, before diminishing into a mere orange, then burning itself out entirely. The whole thing lasted maybe a minute, burning the dried blood away cleanly. The three of them were left staring at something that hadn’t been there before Flitwick’s fire. 

“What is that white stick?” Professor Flitwick asked. “It looks like a wand, but I assume all of the students would have taken their wands with them after such a terrifying experience.” He cast a few diagnostic charms over it, shrugging when nothing seemed alarming about the newly appeared object.

The possible wand in question was stuck point down into the tile floor, at the center of where the double infinity had sat. It looked wholly unharmed by the fire Flitwick had spelled. Auguste and the professors looked at it for a few seconds before Auguste offered up his theory.

“I believe that may be Vega’s wand,” he said. “No--don’t touch it!” he cried, causing Professor McGonagall to stop. She straightened up, regarding him with a brow raised.

“Mr. Nicolay, whatever is the matter with you? I simply wish to return Miss Lang’s wand to her. I’m sure she would be much comforted by its presence when she wakes,” Professor McGonagall said archly.

“I understand, and I apologize for raising my voice,” Auguste apologized. “However, I don’t think any of us should touch Vega’s wand without proper precautions. You should probably put on dragonhide gloves,” he explained.

Both professors looked at him as if he’d grown two more heads. Professor Flitwick finally responded. “Why would such a precaution be necessary, Mr. Nicolay?”

“It’s only a conjecture, Professor, but Vega’s wand was undamaged by the fire you set. Actually, it wasn’t even visible until after the double infinity was cleansed from the ground. I believe the wand helped Vega with the spell she used. I don’t just mean she used it the way most of us use our wands to concentrate our spellcasting. I think her wand may have been specially crafted for her as an heir to one of the Southern Cardinal families.

“That wand was probably made with a part of the Vermillion Bird, for all we know. Only those who carry its blood can touch it, let alone wield it. If any of us try to touch it, I believe it will burn us.”

The professors considered Auguste’s explanation.

Professor Flitwick asked, “Can we not simply levitate it?”

Nicolay shrugged. “We could try, but I don’t think it will allow itself to be levitated. The Cardinal families, especially those of the main branch--and definitely the heirs--all have protections on their wands. In fact, I don’t even know if wearing dragonhide would be safe. Vega is special, even amongst all the other heirs. She is a _true_ heir, one with the Vermillion Bird’s blessing.”

“Nevertheless, let’s give it a try first, yes?” Professor McGonagall said, raising her wand. She swished and flicked it. Nothing happened. She tried again, this time verbally. “ _Wingardium Leviosa!_ ” Still nothing happened.

“Let me give it a try,” Professor Flitwick said. He waved his wand over the white wand. 

After several failed attempts, Professor McGonagall finally summoned a pair of dragonhide gloves. She double gloved her left hand by turning the right hand glove inside out. She cautiously touched her pinky finger to tip of the wand. She just as quickly pulled her finger away.

“It’s hot. Like touching the side of a brewing cauldron,” Professor McGonagall said, grimacing. She pulled off the gloves to examine her finger. It was bright red.

Professor Flitwick frowned. Professor McGonagall looked at Auguste. “Mr. Nicolay, I don’t suppose you have any other suggestions?”

Auguste thought for a minute. “I wonder …”

“Oh!” he snapped his fingers. “I can’t believe I forgot!”

“What have you remembered, Mr. Nicolay?” asked Professor Flitwick.

“The relation is distant --four generations back--but all three of them are descended from Ulrike Luxemburg and Ya Wyn. Vega may have the most Southern Cardinal blood, but her cousins, de Stauf and Zabini--Allegra Zabini, not Dante Zabini--do have some blood from the Vermillion bird. One of them may be able to pick up her wand,” Auguste said. 

“All right. Filius, please go and fetch Miss Zabini,” said Professor McGonagall. She waved her wand, “ _Expecto Patronum_.” A silvery cat burst forth from the tip of her wand. “Tell Fidelma to fetch Mr. De Stauf, please,” she instructed.

Fortunately, Allegra Zabini was able to pick up Vega’s wand. She did have to wear a dragonhide glove, but she said it only felt a little warm.

“I don’t dare touch it without gloves. And nor should you, Didi,” she said to Dieter de Stauf. 

Dieter shrugged. “You don’t have to warn me. Great-great-grandmother Ulrike let me try waving Great-great-grandfather’s wand once. I set the house and my sleeve on fire,” he said conversationally.

Allegra quirked a brow. “She let you wave it? Lucky. Neither Achille nor I were allowed to touch it.”

Dieter sniggered. “Well, she wasn’t going to let anybody else touch it after I set her favorite rug on fire. I didn’t even wave it. I just picked it up,” he said.

Auguste and Allegra laughed. Professor McGonangall even smiled a little. “Well, I’m glad nobody has set fire to anything or any _one_ by picking up Miss Lang’s wand,” she said.

“Yes, thank goodness you recognized Vega and said something to the professors, Nicolay,” Allegra said. “I left dinner before the Beauxbatons students arrived, and Didi didn’t even attend.”

“Professor McGonagall, could you and the other professors keep the information about Vega’s wand to yourselves, please? It’s not entirely a secret, but I don’t think it should be public information, either,” Dieter said.

Professor McGonagall nodded. “Of course, Mr. De Stauf. It wouldn’t surprise me if some foolhardy students tried to touch her wand just to sate their curiosities. Rest assured, your professors and I will keep this revelation to ourselves,” she said.

“Will you allow us to sit with her tonight, Professor McGonagall?” Allegra asked.

“That will be up to Madame Pomfrey,” said Professor McGonangall. 

“Please Professor McGonagall, none of us have seen her for six years! We didn’t even know she was attending Beauxbatons until tonight, or whether she was alive or dead all this time. And if she’s in as bad shape as what I saw, we want to at least make sure she survives the night,” Auguste begged.

McGonagall looked at the three sad faces. She sighed. “All right. You may sit with her, but you must return to your houses before curfew. I expect all three of you to be on your best behavior. I do not want to hear otherwise from Madame Pomfrey.”

They nodded eagerly.

Madame Pomfrey was worked off her feet when the four of them arrived at the infirmary. Nevertheless, she allowed the three students to sit by Vega Lang’s bedside once Professor McGonagall explained their relation to her and how they had helped deliver her wand.

Madame Pomfrey harrumphed, “I don’t want any shenanigans or any of my patients overly excited. Otherwise, I will send all of you out, relation or ally or no, understood?”

“Of course, Madame Pomfrey. We only wish to confirm she is alive and breathing, to send word back to our families. We won’t bother anyone here. We promise,” Allegra said. Dieter and Auguste nodded.

Professor McGonagall reminded them to return to their dormitories before curfew, then left. The three of them looked at each other before grabbing chairs to sit by Vega’s bed. Allegra and Auguste both sat by Vega’s head, while Dieter sat further down, on the same side as Allegra.

Allegra carefully tucked Vega’s wand under her pillow, before gently smoothing her cousin’s hair back from her face. 

“It’s gotten darker, hasn’t it?” she murmured.

Dieter and Auguste both scrutinized Vega. Dieter shrugged, and Auguste replied, “I’m not sure. If it wasn’t for photographs, I’m afraid I would have started to forget what she looked like.”

“I wonder where Ibis and Leda are, and whether they are all right,” Allegra said. She looked around and cast a privacy ward before continuing. “Nicolay, I don’t mean to pry, but I recall overhearing my grandmother and great-uncle discussing the betrothal between your sister and Ibis after the Arsonist Summer. Whatever has happened with that?”

Auguste grimaced. “Considering what happened in the Great Hall tonight, I think you have reason enough to pry,” he said. “The betrothal contract spontaneously caught fire a few months after Vega’s family was murdered. We consulted different experts, and my grandfather even made a trip to China himself, to consult the Central Kingdom authorities, but it was inconclusive. All we know is that the only bodies found in the Lang family townhouse were those of Vega’s parents. My parents have assumed the worst about the burnt contract, but haven’t yet considered new betrothal arrangements for my sister.”

“And now,” Dieter said, “Beauxbatons has been attacked. By what means, or by whom, we do not know yet. I don’t know whether to be more surprised by the attack on the school, or by Vega’s appearance. To hear tell of hers and the other students’ appearance in the Great Hall, I’m actually comparatively less surprised that she could use advanced arithmantic equations, runes, and blood and family magic to transport herself and eight other people from Beauxbatons’ wards through Hogwarts’.”

Allegra exhaled. “My grandmother always said that Vega was Great-uncle Ari’s greatest pride and joy. Sometimes, I think she wishes she could trade one of us for Vega,” she said, chuckling. “To think she could do such fantastic magic at fifteen is incredible.”

“It is,” Dieter said. “You don’t suppose the attack on Beauxbatons has anything to do with Vega’s presence?”

“I really hope not,” Allegra said. “What do you think, Nicolay?”

“Normally,” Auguste said slowly, “my family attends Beauxbatons, not Hogwarts. However, my father and mother both work in the French embassy in London, so they decided to enroll their children at Hogwarts instead. Did either of you know Vega was attending Beauxbatons?”

Allegra looked thoughtful, Dieter poker-faced. They both understood what he was implying.

“No,” Allegra replied. “We Zabinis either attend Hogwarts or Beauxbatons. Didi’s family traditionally attends Durmstrang or occasionally Beauxbatons, but Didi,” she said, turning to Dieter, “there are no cousins at Beauxbatons right now, are there?”

Dieter shook his head. “Inge and I are the only de Staufs here, and that is because Mama is English. The others attend Durmstrang, as do the Luxemburgs. The de Courtenays, who are her first cousins, are too young for school, but I believe their mother wishes them to attend Beauxbatons. Fili graduated from Beauxbatons in 2015. That leaves just you and I here at Hogwarts, Alli.”

Auguste frowned. “I don’t like it. You’re both saying that between all those cousins--mine included, no less--none of us knew where Vega, and perhaps Ibis and Leda, were all this time? Did she purposely choose a school she knew none of us would attend?” he mused.

“You are correct,” someone from the next bed said. Auguste, Allegra, and Dieter looked over to see a dark haired boy. Allegra’s wand was raised. Auguste and Dieter both had dominant hands over their hidden wand holsters.

“I am Giorgio Passerini, a friend of Vega’s,” the boy said. He held up a hand. “My heirship ring allows me to overcome certain privacy wards.”

“Under other circumstances, I would say it’s a pleasure to meet a scion of the Passerini family. For now, I will simply say, I wish you well, Giorgio Passerini. I am Allegra Zabini,” Allegra said, slowly lowering her wand.

“My sentiments are similar to my cousin’s. I wish you speedy recovery, Passerini. I am Dieter de Stauf,” said Dieter.

“I too, hope you recover soon. I am Auguste Nicolay,” Auguste said. “Will you explain what you meant, please? And how much Vega has seen fit to tell you. Not all the details, of course, but simply a rough idea of how much she trusts you.”

Passerini regarded Auguste with interest. “You are very forthright.”

Auguste shrugged. “She was my best friend growing up. My family has maintained friendship with hers for the last one hundred years. It may not be long, in the scheme of things, but it is a close friendship, and I have been sick with worry for six long years.”

“Besides,” Dieter added, “You overheard what we were talking about. We need to know how much we can trust you.”

“I see.” Passerini moved his head slightly. He remained prone on his bed rather than sitting up. “I will tell you what I know, since Vega has remained close-lipped, in more ways than one, even after five years of friendship.” His gaze shifted to Allegra, “I also know what the significance of you having the ability to deliver her wand means,” he said to Allegra. She inclined her head.

“I think the most important and immediate fact you must know,” Passerini said, “is that Vega is mute.”

Auguste inhaled sharply. Allegra frowned. Even Dieter’s brow furrowed, before he recast the privacy wards, making sure to add additional, more complicated ones than before. He gestured for Passerini to keep speaking.

Passerini continued. “As far as anyone can discern--that includes the medi-witch at the academy--it is a physiological cause, not psychological. She has no larynx. I have already had to explain this to your Madame Pomfrey. Otherwise, she was inclined to have Vega drink a potion to try to regrow one. It would have been excruciating, especially since she cannot even scream from the impotence,” he said.

“It sounds like you’ve seen something similar happen before,” Dieter said.

“Yes,” Passerini replied, “I have. Vega and I met in the infirmary the first day of school. I had dislocated my knee, and she had been brought there by a professor who was concerned that a magical child had what seemed like a very serious injury which should nonetheless be curable.”

“It wasn’t, though,” Dieter stated. 

“No, it wasn’t,” Passerini agreed. “I woke up in the middle of the night and saw she had curled into a ball, clutching her throat. The potions the medi-witch made her drink put her immune system into high stress, rather than regrowing her larynx. No tissue regrew at all. Madame Thierry was understandably concerned once she discovered this. She was even more concerned when Vega explained that it wasn’t a cursed wound, but a gift.”

“A gift!” exclaimed Allegra. “Didi, do you think … ?”

Didi shook his head. “You’re the one who picked up her wand, Alli. I haven’t even tried. What do _you_ think?”

Auguste looked back and forth between the cousins before addressing Passerini. “Are you saying that Vega’s loss of larynx was a gift to Vega herself, or she gave it away as a gift to someone else?” 

“Your guess is as good as mine, Nicolay,” Passerini said.

“Please continue, then, Passerini,” Dieter said.

“Your cousin is a prodigy, de Stauf, Zabini. As far as I can discern, she escaped the tragedy of the Arsonist Summer with her younger sister through her own power, and no one else’s. She fled Xiamen with a toddler, sweeping traces of their escape well enough to fool the perpetrators of the biggest magical genocide this century. How she was able to arrive safely in France, and where she and her sister live is still a mystery to all but she and her sister.

“Once I understood she was the scion of both a Luxemburg and a de Courtenay, I realized, like the three of you, how strange the timing of her arrival and attendance of the academy. She is the heir--at this point, more than likely the ruling lady--to a family that goes back eight millennia. She could just as easily have attended Durmstrang with de Stauf and Luxemburg cousins. Or she could have attended Hogwarts concurrently with the two of you, and a few older cousins, yes?” Passerini asked.

Dieter and Allegra nodded.

Passerini continued his conjecture. “But she did not. She chose to attend Beauxbatons as a lone cousin of your large and illustrious extended family. In the years when there would be no others of your family attending. I’m not entirely sure your de Courtenay cousins would have attended Beauxbatons, even before the events of today, actually. Either they would have gone to Durmstrang instead, or it’s possible Vega would have transferred out after the conclusion of the academic year. Although, it is probably a moot point, now that she has revealed herself to the three of you, yes?”

Auguste closed his eyes and breathed deeply. Hesitantly, he asked, “How has she kept professors or other students from making it known in their own social and professional circles, that a cousin to the Luxemburg and de Courtenay families, the heir to a prestigious, though foreign lineage, the Lang family, was completing her education in France?”

“I suspect a combination of playing down her talents and avoiding extracurricular activities,” Passerini answered. 

“That’s very hard to believe,” Dieter said, eyes narrowing. “She cannot speak. So surely she must have attracted attention because she can only cast non-verbally. It wouldn’t be a great leap of logic for your professors to expect her to be casting wandlessly when the rest of us are just starting non-verbal casting ourselves. Also, how many people know about her wand and its propensity to _burn_ anyone other than its owner?”

“Your cousin has great talent for acting obtuse while giving the impression of a very earnest and sincere schoolchild,” Passerini said, grinning. “And the only time another student almost touched her wand was during a defense lesson, when she was disarmed. She _did_ use wandless magic that time to trip the other student, and so he did not catch her wand in hand as a result. The professor asked her about it, but she said it was merely a trick she perfected from her younger days of accidental magic. She purchased a second wand after that near fiasco.”

“Of course she would,” Allegra said, nodding. “I didn’t get to see her nearly as much as the two of you,” she gestured to Dieter and Auguste, “but she always was quite astute. I’m surprised she didn’t purchase one before an accident almost happened.”

Dieter wondered aloud, “She may not even really need a wand at all. Even this one may be carried only as a precaution. She probably only let slip the one time only because it’s a superfluous accessory to her most of the time.”

Passerini moved his head in the semblance of a nod. “If she escaped China at the age of nine, then I doubt she had a chance to have that wand commissioned later on. She was most likely proficient with it before she even entered school. At the same time, while she first started using it, a combination of frustration from not being able to use it well and desperation of being on the run and caring for herself and a baby sister probably accelerated her wandless magic development. Outside of the classroom, actually, Vega hardly uses her wand. She does most mundane tasks manually, only waving a wand if magic is absolutely necessary. But it’s much easier to wave a wand and pretend the task at hand was done through that while surreptitiously using wandless magic, than the other way around.”

The cousins and Auguste contemplated this. Dieter broke the silence. “And the visits to St. Jacques? Does she have permission to leave the academy?”

“She does have permission, but she hardly goes out,” Passerini said.

“I don’t think parental permission means much,” Auguste said. Dieter raised a brow. Auguste soldiered on. “Her grandmother was the head of the family, but she disappeared not long after Ari de Courtenay passed away. So the duties and title would have passed to Aunt Celandine, who was murdered along with Uncle Ying during the Arsonist Summer. In effect, what Passerini said earlier was probably correct. Vega is the head of her family. And so long as she has the family seal and the right to wield it, how could the permission slip hinder her?”

Allegra chuckled. “It isn’t as if Hogwarts students have never forged signatures on their Hogsmeade permission slips. It’s a common enough occurrence in Slytherin, at least.” At the raised brows, she said, “What? We have a long established tradition. The fifth through seventh years ask someone enterprising from the art club, and then someone proficient in charms does the magical part. Besides, it isn’t as if these students don’t have permission to go out because there’s a safety risk. Their permission was only temporarily revoked by parents or guardians due to some lark or other.”

Dieter shook his head. “I suppose Nicolay is right. Great-great-grandfather never signed documents. He used a personal seal for anything pertaining to the Wyn family, and his signet ring for Luxemburg business. Even if her personal seal is no good, the family seal would be more than adequate.” He turned to Allegra to ask, “Do they forge signatures _and_ seals in Slytherin?”

“Both,” Allegra answered. “Depends on the family, of course. Although, there aren’t many muggleborns in Slytherin, so usually it’s signature and seal.”

“What do you charge for it?” Passerini asked, intrigued.

“Also depends,” Allegra said. “Could be gold, could be a favor, could even be a dare.”

“Ca depend, oui?” Auguste said, grinning.

“Ca depend,” Allegra agreed.

“All right. So as far as most of the students and professors at Beauxbatons know, Vega is under the guardianship of a responsible adult, even if reality differs,” Dieter summarized. “As for our family, that’s the more pressing concern. Either Vega didn’t trust my great-grandmother and your great-grandfather, Alli--nor yours, Nicolay, for that matter, or even her mother’s brother, Uncle Bertram--or she did trust them enough to contact them, but _we_ weren’t trusted with that knowledge. I really hope it’s the latter, because the former is a chilling prospect.”

Auguste grimaced. “I will write to my family tonight,” he said, looking down at Vega’s face. “I expect you two will do the same. I’m open to comparing notes the day after tomorrow. We can meet after classes? Hopefully, our families will be forthright and prompt with their responses.”

Allegra and Dieter both nodded. Allegra turned to ask Passerini, “Has the Hogwarts staff already let your families know your location?”

“Yes, thank you for asking,” said Passerini. He frowned. “You all don’t wish to know what happened at the academy?”

Auguste shook his head. “You look exhausted, and the Headmistress will flay us alive if Madame Pomfrey doesn’t. I expect we’ll find out more in the coming days. Besides, you’ll be here--and Vega too--to question another day.”

“Yes, do rest well. You’ve been very helpful, Passerini. Thank you,” Dieter said.

“We will meet you outside the Great Hall, then, Nicolay,” Allegra said, wrapping up the conversation.

Auguste looked down at Vega’s face once more, wrapped a hand around a dark curl and kissed it before he responded. “All right. Good night. I’ll see you two in two nights.”

  
  



	2. In which Allegra and Dieter talk about which relatives deserve to be locked in the attic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Letters are sent, alliances are made, and suspicions abound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Please see the family tree at the end of the chapter. I know it's confusing, introducing all sorts of new characters into a popular fandom, but please bear with me.  
> What you need to know is that even though in English--and I assume much of Europe?--"cousin" is a common definition for a distant relative, in East Asian culture, "Aunt"/"Uncle" and "Sister/Brother" is more common.  
> Culturally, I've always found it odd to call your parent's first cousin "cousin." I call them "uncle/aunt."  
> Because Ulrike Luxemburg married a Chinese wizard, Ya Wyn, their descendants (so far you've been introduced to three great-great grandchildren: Vega, Dieter, and Allegra) call their cousins "uncle" or "aunt" or variations thereof if there is a difference in generation. Vega, Dieter, and Allegra are third cousins from different branches of the family.  
> Also, the family tree is not all complete, I only put the most relevant (and thus far mentioned) relatives here for now. I suppose I could have linked an excel sheet, but I decided not to mess with that. Trying to format a family tree in a note is exhausting.  
> Please enjoy! (I hope ;D)
> 
> *Edit, 27 October 2020: A reader said I needed a chart for the family tree, so here is the link:  
> https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1lAu2pxbCPBBw30agUbgQKzTbBkDLSK7E3kdrrQ9Xpek/edit?usp=sharing

Dear Mamma,

I believe by the time you receive this owl, you will have heard what happened at Beauxbatons on the evening of 22 September. I do not know if the newspapers will publish the names of the students who found safety at Hogwarts, but you must pass this information onto Great-grandfather Lukas as soon as you can. Vega is here at Hogwarts. She arrived with eight other students, all of them injured, but none more so than she. She used some sort of blood and family magic--yes, fire too--to transport herself and those eight other students through the wards of Hogwarts. _Eight , _ Mamma. Including herself, nine. I don’t know how she managed to not drop dead. The medi-witch in the hospital wing has put her in induced sleep so she can heal more efficiently. Myself, cousin Didi, and Auguste Nicolay were allowed to sit with her tonight. She did not look well, Mamma, but she has all her limbs, and a wand that only I could pick up with a dragonhide glove. Nicolay, who had thankfully recognized her during her arrival at dinner time (neither Didi nor I were there), helped the professors dismantle her ritual and ambient magic in the Great Hall, and also thought to have Didi and I fetched to return Vega’s wand to her side.

Mamma, has the family been hiding Vega’s whereabouts? Please don’t be offended by my question. I need to know. Neither Didi nor Nicolay knew our missing cousin was at Beauxbatons for the past four years. Either Vega ~~did not~~ **does not** trust anyone in the family with hers and Leda’s whereabouts, or you and the elders did not trust your children with this information. 

Regardless, it is important that you know all we have discerned. A school friend of Vega’s, the heir of house Passerini, explained that she has kept a low profile at the academy, but he, myself, Didi, and Nicolay find it exceedingly strange, and suspect Vega chose to attend Beauxbatons precisely because there are currently no cousins there. We did not talk to Passerini long, for he was also injured, and I felt it was important to get this letter posted tonight. However, Passerini’s impression was that Vega trusts no one. Also, she is completely mute. She has no larynx. She told the medi-witch at Beauxbatons that it was a “gift.” What could that mean? And how could the Vermillion Bird allow his heir to suffer such a grievous injury? What in the world could have happened so that she lost it, but in a way she would not construe it as a cursed wound? She also has permission to visit St. Jacques, but none of us believe it is necessarily an indication of an adult guardian's presence. Passerini is given to believe that Vega and Leda escaped the Central Kingdom by themselves. Nobody knows the identity of their guardian. He didn’t mention Ibis, though, and that worries me. Nevertheless, I think you and the rest of the family will find it joyful news, much like I did, that Vega and Leda live. 

We don’t know yet what happened at Beauxbatons. I doubt the Daily Prophet will report the truth, and I don’t know that Di Tanto in Tanto will be any more illuminating. Do you mind sending me your copy of La nouvelle époque when you respond, please? I will send for a subscription tomorrow, but I shan’t receive tomorrow morning’s copy otherwise. You must be wondering why I cannot simply ask Vega. The truth is, I don’t know how she will receive us. I may have an easier time asking her friend Passerini, in fact. (If he is her friend. However, he knew things that he shouldn’t know unless he is either her friend indeed, or he is a nosy upstart who watches her like a hawk. Somehow, I doubt the latter since Vega could very well refute his claim of friendship once she wakes.)

Mamma, I am truly afraid. The Arsonist Summer may have only been in the Central Kingdom, but it _decimated_ the Cardinal families. Combined with the attack on Beauxbatons, and the drowned ships this past summer, I am starting to wonder if all of it is related. That something is sweeping far and wide. Someone has been planning something ill-gotten and bloody for a while, and when they finally step forth from the shadows, it will be even bloodier than the Arsonist Summer. It seems far-fetched, perhaps, but you and Nonna taught me never to believe in coincidences. Afterall, what kind of witches _drown in the twenty-first century?_ Please don’t keep me in the dark because of my youth. If I am to support my long-missing cousin when she wakes, I need to know as much as possible. You also would want me prepared for whatever may come this way, wouldn’t you, Mamma? Beauxbatons suffered an attack tonight. Hogwarts suffered an attack thirty years ago. No place is completely safe. No wards completely infallible. I also have a feeling that danger has ever revolved around dear Vega since the Arsonist Summer. Else, why would she not have approached any of her family here in Europe? 

Please give my love to Papa, Achille, and Great-grandfather Lukas. 

All my best,

Allegra

P.S. After you have informed the family of Vega’s survival and whereabouts, could you send some sweets, please? I remember Vega used to love the Torrone made by the Cremonesi shop.

* * *

Allegra watched as her owl flew off with her letter. Soon, she could no longer make out the bird. She felt cold and scared. She remembered the dread and shock she felt when she heard about the deaths of Aunt Celandine and Uncle Ying. Allegra had last seen the both of them at Great-uncle Ari’s funeral. Aunt Celandine had looked sad, and Uncle Ying worried. Vega had cried silently, tears streaming down her face, lower lip bitten bloody. Allegra had never seen her cousin cry, not even when she had broken her leg in three places when they were six and seven. It had scared Allegra because she did not understand why Ibis could cry loudly, wailing in his father’s arms, and even baby Leda cried from sympathy with Ibis, but Vega thought she needed to cry silently. 

What Allegra felt now was similar. She was overjoyed to see Vega, but a nasty feeling sat in her gut. If Vega could not trust their family, then could Allegra? Who could and couldn’t be trusted? How would they even know? Who had betrayed the Langs? Was it someone from the Central Kingdom? Or was it someone much closer to home?

“Alli.”

Allegra whipped around, wand raised. Didi had his hands in the air. He had expected her reaction. She lowered her wand and turned back to the window.

“Alli, go to bed,” Didi said. Alli heard the rustling of feathers and Didi murmuring to his falcon. She heard the sound of wings flapping and the movement of air to her left.

Didi came to stand next to her. She could feel heat radiating off him. She shivered. She felt a secure and warm weight settle on her shoulders. Didi had draped his outer robe over her. She looked up at his face.

Didi sighed. “Alli. There’s no sense in worrying until we know what is happening.”

Allegra frowned at him. “How can I not worry? We need to be prepared, Didi! So much has happened, and yet none of it makes sense!” 

“Yes, we should be prepared. However, that doesn’t mean we should make ourselves sick thinking about things that haven’t yet happened, and may not happen at all.”

“What if …” she said slowly, considering her words carefully, “what if our families can’t be trusted, Didi? What if Vega doesn’t trust us?”

Didi hugged her with one arm. “We show her she can trust us, then. We figure out who we can and can’t trust in our family, and we deal with them accordingly.”

“Deal with them accordingly? What would we do? Lock them up in an attic?” Allegra asked scathingly.

Didi laughed aloud. It was a full belly laugh. “Have you been reading Brontë again? No, of course not,” he said. His facial expression sobered. “I honestly don’t know how we’ll deal with them, but we’ll do our best to protect Vega. The two of you have always been my favorite cousins,” he said.

Allegra looked up at him. His facial expression had softened. “You two are my favorite, too,” she told him.

When Allegra was young, her favorite cousin had been Vega. There was something magnetic about her. Different. Great-uncle Ari had been Nonna Helena’s favorite cousin, so naturally Allegra had thought Vega would be a miniature of him. Instead of an exuberant blond child, however, Allegra had met a serious child with mahogany hair, quiet and inconspicuous. 

At first, Allegra had been disappointed. But after a series of pranks played on Allegra by her brother Achille and Didi’s sister Inge, Allegra was pleasantly surprised to find both miscreants wallowing in a deep pool of mud. Allegra thought at first that Fili had done it to teach them a lesson, but the older boy had looked at her blankly when she asked. It was a week later, when Allegra found her younger cousin reading a book on elemental earth magic that she truly began to understand there was much more to people than appearance and first impression. 

Allegra quickly realized her younger cousin was a prodigy. Rather than jealousy, though, all she felt was admiration for her. She could explain things to Allegra better than adults or Achille could. For that matter, Vega actually tried, unlike Achille. Vega had oodles of patience, and she not only knew how to speak to adults and children, she was also incredibly sweet to baby Ibis. She was never disgusted by the baby’s spitting and vomit, nor annoyed with his crying. Allegra wondered sometimes, if Vega was really an adult masquerading as a child. That lasted a month. Allegra had accidentally told Achille and Inge that it was Vega who had trapped them in mud. The older children pushed both Vega and Allegra into a pile of horse manure in the pony stables. Allegra had cried, and the adults had come rushing to see what happened. Vega hadn’t cried, though. She threw up. And in full view of the adults, smacked a palm full of horse manure in Achille’s face. It hadn’t even been the cheek! She smacked her palm over the center--nose, forehead, both cheeks, an eye, all splattered with horseshit! And she had looked furious. Allegra decided then and there, that Vega was her favorite cousin.

After six years at Hogwarts, and six years bereft of the Lang cousins’ presence, Vega was no longer Allegra’s favorite cousin. She had become a cherished childhood memory. These days, Dieter was Allegra’s favorite. This was no surprise. Didi had always got along well with people. He was mellow, but had teeth to bare if provoked. He was also her fellow commiserator and victim of Achille and Inge’s pranks. He had been the one to reassure her that she would like Hogwarts when Achille had told her awful fibs to scare her. He had been the one to offer her hugs and write to her Nonna to send Allegra’s favorite sweets when she was homesick in her first year. 

Allegra trusted Didi to have her best interests at heart. She wanted desperately to trust him to have Vega’s best interests at heart, too. Allegra grasped Didi’s hand. “I trust you.”

Didi smiled at her. “I trust you, too.” He hummed in thought. “Do you think we should trust the Nicolay heir?”

Allegra wondered about that, too. Nicolay’s sister had been betrothed to Ibis Lang. It would have made more political sense to betroth Méline Nicolay to Ibis’s first cousin Nikolaus de Courtenay. Or even Auguste Nicolay and Bernadette de Courtenay. It would have simultaneously reintroduced french blood into the de Courtenay family, and finally fulfilled their great-grandmothers’ hopes of joining their families together. 

Marrying a daughter of a patrilineal family to the son of a matrilineal family had comparatively less political advantages. They would also have a difficult time deciding where they would settle once they married. And who would marry into whose family? 

Allegra voiced these thoughts aloud to Didi, who agreed with her. 

“I think, Alli, that Great-uncle Ari might have wished to betroth Vega to Auguste Nicolay,” Didi hypothesized.

Allegra frowned. “They are both heirs to their families,” she said.

“Exactly,” Didi said, “because he could not betroth them, he betrothed their younger siblings to each other instead. Besides, Ibis was born before Nikolaus, and although Great-uncle Ari visited France a great deal, he resided in the Central Kingdom. I think it’s natural he would favor the grandchildren he saw more often.”

“Didi, this is just me throwing conspiracy theories around,” Allegra said carefully, “but do you think Uncle Bertram might have coveted that alliance with the Nicolays?”

Didi was quiet for a minute. “I know he did,” he finally said. 

Allegra looked at him sharply. “How?”

“You know that I spent much of my childhood in and out of Uroma Ulrike’s house,” he said. She nodded. He continued, “She didn’t mind at all if Emmerich or I eavesdropped on adult conversations. She said I was too friendly as a child, and ought to learn subterfuge. She was always complaining that Inge and I would attend Hogwarts, and we wouldn’t be properly prepared to lead the De Staufs since we weren't going to Durmstrang.”

Allegra giggled. “You still are a friendly person--you sorted into Hufflepuff! Although, you have a very impressive poker face now.”

“Yes,” Didi said. “Anyway, I overheard Uncle Bertram complaining to Uroma Ulrike. He thought that the betrothal didn’t make any sense.”

“What did Uroma Ulrike say?”

“She said that the friendship and verbal agreement was made between Marielle de Courtenay and Emmanuelle de Lille, and she as a German woman had no say in the contracts made by French houses,” said Didi.

“Ouch.” Allegra grimaced. “She basically told him to piss off.”

“Not only that. She told him that he was a fool to believe just because he would inherit the De Courtenay title didn’t mean he could go around Great-uncle Ari’s back, instigating trouble by usurping the chain of command by coming to the Luxemburg materfamilias,” said Didi.

“Double ouch!”

“Then she told him that it was because he did things like this that Great-uncle Ari betrothed Ibis, and not Nikolaus to the house of Nicolay,” said Didi.

Allegra sighed, shaking her head. “All right, so we know Uncle Bertram is slimy at best, and a kinslayer at worst. We’ll lock him in the proverbial attic, then. Who else ought we beware?”

Didi yawned, pulling his arms up above his head to stretch his shoulders. “Let’s see what our families say before we add anyone else to our black books, shall we? I’m exhausted. We need to get back to our houses, too. Curfew started twenty minutes ago.”

Allegra pulled a face. “Oh all right. German Hufflepuff.”

“Hey, I’m a proud German, and a proud Hufflepuff. Can you say the same about being an Italian Slytherin?” Didi asked, draping an arm around Allegra’s shoulder, and leading her towards the door.

Allegra squared her shoulders, laying one hand over her breast, she said, “Of course. We Zabinis are always sorted into Slytherin, and our bloodline stretches back three millenia, in an unbroken line of matriarchs--”

“All right, all right. And we’re both descended from the Wyns, whose lineage stretches back eight millenia. There’s no need to brag about your side of the family,” Didi said, chortling. 

\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

_Potter Residence_

_Harry Potter_

Harry woke up to the dulcet tones of Hermione’s voice and Ginny shaking him awake. He grunted.

“Wha--Ginny, what is Hermione doing here?”

“She’s here to ask about my next game, darling,” Ginny joked. “Now up you get. I know you’re tired from the double shift, but this is important.”

Harry sat up grumpily. Hermione stood behind Ginny. She had taken on an approximation of Minerva McGonagall’s thin-lipped disapproving look. Although, Harry knew this actually meant she was worried, and trying not to show it. “All right Hermione. What is it?” Harry stumbled out of bed, fully dressed. He had returned home utterly exhausted around noon, and simply shucked off his shoes and outer auror robes and left everything else on.

“Beauxbatons was attacked three hours ago, Harry,” said Hermione.

Harry put on his glasses and shoes, and secured his wand to his holster. “Okay. That is worrisome, but what does it have to do with the British Department of Magical Law Enforcement?”

“Nine students transported themselves into the Great Hall of Hogwarts,” Hermione explained.

Ginny gasped, and Harry’s shoulders tensed. Ginny asked, “Should I be hearing this?”

Hermione shrugged. “This part will be in the papers by morning. I do need Harry to join me at the ministry so all the relevant parties can be briefed at the same time,” she said. “The children are all right, Harry. McGonagall made sure to include that in her note.”

Harry and Ginny both breathed a sigh of relief. 

“All right. Give me some time to clean up and grab a bite, Hermione. I’ll meet you at the ministry. Where are we meeting?”

“My office, Harry. See you again soon,” Hermione said. She left the room.

“Harry, I’ll pack some food for you. Why don’t you go wash up?” Ginny suggested.

Harry nodded.

\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

_Ministry of Magic_

Harry arrived at Hermione’s office, shoving the last of his sandwich in his mouth as he knocked on the door and entered. He was offered coffee as soon as he sat down. He accepted the cup and sipped on it while he looked at who else was present.

The Minister for Magic, Hermione herself was scrawling hastily on some parchment behind her desk. Ron stood by the coffee carafe, adding cream and sugar to his own cup. An older wizard Harry didn’t recognize stood next to Ron, waiting for the cream. Daphne Greengrass, the deputy to the head of the department of International Magical Cooperation, sat in the chair next to Harry’s, sipping what smelled like peppermint tea. Constance Pickering, the young head of the Statute of Secrecy Task Force, sat on Greengrass’s other side, watching Hermione with admiration. And to Harry’s other side sat a wizard about Harry’s age, who was frowning at a letter in his hands. 

Hermione stopped writing once Ron and the older wizard sat down. She neatened some of the paperwork on her desk and sighed. 

“I’d love to tell you all ‘good evening,’ but I’m afraid what I’m about to tell you all will prove those words a lie,” Hermione said. “Before I brief all of you, I think we should make the introductions. As you all know, I am Hermione Granger, Minister for Magic. Closest to my left is Gilbert Nicolay, who works at the French Embassy.” Nicolay put his letter away and nodded to everyone. 

Hermione introduced everyone else. The older wizard was from the ICW. After everyone said their hellos and shook hands, Hermione continued. “Approximately three and a half hours ago, the Beauxbatons Academy of Magic was attacked by a group of wizards. I was informed by Headmistress McGonagall that nine students appeared in the middle of the Great Hall at Hogwarts during the dinner hour.”

“Minister, how did they enter Hogwarts? Was it by portkey?” Greengrass asked.

Hermione shook her head. “No. I haven’t gotten all the details on that--that’s where Head Auror Potter, and his partner, Auror Weasley come in. The two of them,” she said nodding at Harry and Ron, “will go and interview the Beauxbatons students first thing in the morning.”

The wizard from the ICW frowned. “Should they not go posthaste? This is an extremely serious matter. We have witnesses here in Britain. Shouldn't we find out what happened immediately?” he said.

“No, delegate Barbier. I have aurors there keeping watch, both for the safety of the Beauxbatons students, but also to alert us if anyone tries to attack Hogwarts itself. Many of those students are in shock, both physical and emotional. We will let them sleep before we question them,” said Hermione. “Also, Monsieur Nicolay will inform us on what the French Ministry has found from its investigations at Beauxbatons.” Nicolay inclined his head.

“Monsieur Nicolay, Deputy Greengrass will assist you with getting communication to me and the other members of the ministry, and public relations,” Hermione continued. “Commander Pickering, I need you to be on hand in case the attack at Beauxbatons affects Magical-Muggle relations here in Britain. Otherwise, please offer our assistance to the French Ministry.”

Pickering nodded, and Hermione concluded the briefing. Ron and Harry stayed behind. Hermione downed what was now a lukewarm cup of tea. 

“Harry, Ron, we need to go to Hogwarts tonight,” she told them. “It should be a brief visit. Minerva sent a second owl just after I went to fetch Harry. It’s about the magic the Beauxbatons students used to travel into Hogwarts.”

“Does she know how they did it, now?” Harry asked.

“She knows a little more, but I believe we need to wait for one particular student to wake up and tell us. Her name is Vega Lang. Poppy has placed her in an induced coma, however, so we will have to wait at least a day or two to speak to her.”

“Lang … why does that sound familiar,” Ron muttered.

“Because of the genocide in the Central Kingdom six years ago,” Hermione supplied.

“Oh. That’s what it was. They were the first family to be attacked, weren’t they? But the ICW said the Lang children--those of the main branch--disappeared, didn’t they?” Ron asked. “I remember everyone was mystified because of conflicting witness statements--magical and muggle, and the fact that their townhouse burned, but not the muggle homes adjacent.”

Harry sighed. “She’s one of the missing children, isn’t she, Hermione?” He removed his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose.

Hermione nodded. “She’s the eldest, and as far as I can tell, the head of her family, now that her grandmother’s death has been confirmed.”

Ron looked at Harry with a wry grin. “Harry, not to pick on you, but doesn’t this sound familiar?”

Harry grinned back. “An orphan who’s able to do strange and fantastic magic at a young age? Life balances on the edge of death several times before reaching the age of majority? Are you alluding to Tom Riddle?”

Ron sniggered, and Hermione rolled her eyes. “Stop being facetious, both of you.” 

Harry and Ron both laughed outright. 

“All right Mione, are we going to see Minerva, now?” Ron asked after he’d stopped laughing.

\\\\\\\\\\\\\

Harry, Ron, and Hermione left Minerva McGonagall’s office marginally more informed, and twice as mystified. Vega Lang was indeed one of the missing Lang children, and the head of House Lang. Minerva had explained how one of her Ravenclaws had offered advice upon recognizing his missing childhood friend, and the two cousins who had needed to be summoned in order to _physically pick up_ Vega Lang’s wand and return it to her.

Hermione had wanted to examine the wand, but since Vega’s cousins had seen fit to shove the wand under Vega’s pillow, and none of the people who could pick it up were awake, Hermione had to set the idea aside.

Harry thought about the letter Gilbert Nicolay had been perusing right before the briefing. “What do you think Nicolay’s son wrote to him?”

Hermione startled out of her thoughts. “Well, I would imagine he told him that his long-lost friend had appeared in the middle of the Great Hall,” she said mildly.

It was Ron who understood Harry’s question. “Yeah, but what else? You were busy looking at correspondence and writing replies, but Hermione, Nicolay was reading and frowning at that letter for a while. I think there are things the Nicolay and Lang families are keeping to themselves,” he said.

Hermione ran a hand over her head, reaching back to undo her chignon. She sighed. “I don’t know for certain, but I have a feeling the person who can best answer everyone’s questions--ours, the Nicolays', and the French Ministry’s--is in a coma. All we can do is wait for Poppy to bring her out of it.”

“Speaking of which, don’t you find it interesting that she’s missing her vocal chords?” Harry pushed on.

“Yeah, and what the bloody hell do they mean by calling it a ‘gift?’” Ron added.

Hermione looked exhausted. Her hair had poofed up like a lion’s mane. “I don’t know. Let’s just go home for now and sleep,” she said, hooking her arm through Ron’s. 

The three of them had arrived in Hogsmeade. Hermione and Ron bid Harry good night, and Harry returned it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please see the Author's note at the beginning of this chapter if you want to see the family tree in chart-like form (google sheet)
> 
> 1884-1985, Ya Wyn --m-- 1879-2012 Ulrike Luxemburg  
> Children: Theresa Luxemburg, Albert Luxemburg, Lukas Luxemburg  
> Their children took the Luxemburg family name because the Wyns are matriarchal and matrilineal. Their sons often marry into other families. The Luxemburgs are patriarchal, but Ulrike was the last of her family, so Ya Wyn had no problem agreeing to marry into the House of Luxemburg.
> 
> b. 1909, Theresa Luxemburg --m-- b. 1909, Karl de Stauf  
> b. 1932, Ute | 1934-1942 Erich | b. 1938, Arnold  
> Arnold's children: b. Adela 1968 | b. Erika 1971 | b. Ulrich 1974 --m-- Gwendolen Smith | b. Robert 1977  
> Ulrich's children: b. Inge 2000 | b. Dieter (Didi) 2003 
> 
> 1912-2008, Albert Luxemburg --m-- 1915-2009, Marielle de Courtenay  
> 1948-2014 Ari de Courtenay* --m-- 1950-2014, Lee Lang  
> b. 1982, Bertram de Courtenay** | 1978-2014, Celandine Lang --m-- 1976-2014, Ying Sun  
> b. 2009, Nikolaus de Courtenay | b. 2011, Bernadette ... b. 2005, Vega Lang*** | b. 2009, Ibis | b. 2012, Leda  
> *Like his father, Ari was born into his mother's house, rather than House of Luxemburg, because Marielle lost all of her family to Grindelwald's war. Even though Albert was technically Ulrike's heir, his nephew was born a year before his son (and Lukas married first, so it made more political sense to allow his child to inherit the de Courtenay title, rather than start a cadet branch of Luxemburgs).  
> **Because Bertram and Celandine's mother is from a matriarchal and matrilineal house (as is Ying Sun, actually), Bertram inherited the patrilineal title, and Celandine became a scion of House Lang.  
> ***Likewise, Vega and her siblings were born into the Lang family because their father married in. While most of the Central Kingdom (magical China) is patriarchal and patrilineal, including the royal family, the Cardinal families are all matriarchal and matrilineal. Wyn, Lang, and Sun are all Cardinal families.
> 
> b. 1917, Lukas Luxemburg* --m-- b. 1915, Isidora Zabini**  
> b. 1940, Rosalie Zabini | b. 1947, Ignatz Luxemburg | b. 1950, Helena Zabini  
> b. 1968, Marcello Zabini .... b. 1975, Levin Luxemburg ... b. 1975, Berenice Zabini  
> b. 1996, Filiberto Zabini .....b. 2004, Emmerich Luxemburg ... b. 2000, Achille | b. 2004, Allegra (Alli)  
> *Because Albert predeceased their mother Ulrike, Lukas is now head of House Luxemburg.  
> **Isidora Zabini is head of House Zabini, which is ancient and Etruscan in origin. In my headcanon, the older a bloodline, the more likely they are to have maintained the older tradition, which is matriarchal and matrilineal succession. Like the De Courtenay/Lang union, the daughters took the Zabini name, and the son became a scion of House Luxemburg. 
> 
> Rosalie’s grandchildren go to Beauxbatons, the Luxemburgs to Durmstrang, and Helena’s grandchildren to Hogwarts. Inge and Dieter go to Hogwarts because their mother is English, and a Smith, a descendant of Hufflepuff. Their cousins go to Durmstrang. Rosalie’s grandchildren all graduated before Vega transferred in, though.
> 
> I know it seems like a lot of contrivance to make everyone take on different last names, but I promise it makes sense! Most males born into a Cardinal family are feminists. They have to be, otherwise their spite and resentment will drive them into early graves. Metaphorically and literally speaking. Ya Wyn impressed his beliefs onto his children. Ulrike Luxemburg might have been less of a feminist, but for the fact she was orphaned young, and grew up quite independently. She was a feminist when the movement was young, and before she even knew she was one. It's a coincidence that Albert married the last of another family. It's not a coincidence he allowed Marielle to name Ari a De Courtenay, though. His mother supported this with the caveat that either he or his brother would have to give her an heir. Albert basically married his own mother, as did Lukas, except Isidora IS the matriarch of the family. Ari de Courtenay was visiting Wyn cousins in China when he fell in love with Lee Lang, and the rest is, well, history. The pattern repeats.  
> I don't know if I'll introduce many patrilineal Chinese families, mainly because the story centers on Vega's family, and with the exception of the recent European blood, most of her ancestors are from Cardinal families.  
> Also, there's an important reason why the Cardinal families are all matrilineal in succession. So if y'all had questions why I made this decision, rest assured, it will be answered!
> 
> Ciao!


	3. In which Hermione's world view shifts a bit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vega dreams. Dieter, Allegra, and Auguste trade newspapers. Hermione interviews Vega.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I didn't think I'd be saying this, but please let me know if you see any mistakes or have any suggestions--any at all! If you feel like something is confusing, or there are grammatical/spelling mistakes, or if you feel like you aren't getting a good sense of each character's feelings depending on whoever's POV. Whatever you think and say in comments, I'm interested and curious, please don't be shy. I'll take it under consideration even if I don't agree.  
> Also, I know I said I'm only following canon as far as the end of the 7th book, but I have been pulling information, names, and other bits and pieces from the Harry Potter Wiki. Some of that is based on mobile games and stuff, so ... erm, I lied?  
> Also, there are some brief character introductions at the end.  
> Please enjoy!

_ Hogwarts Hospital Wing _

Vega Lang slept without moving. That was a consequence of the magical coma. She dreamt, however. Vivid dreams of screaming, wand fire, blood, and smoke. She dreamt of a beautiful woman lying in a burning room, who caressed Vega’s face, asking her for difficult promises. She dreamt of her flight with baby Leda. Holding a small hand and running. The dream morphed. The body attached to the small hand changed. It now belonged to a young teenage boy. She pulled him out of the crosshairs of a curse. She brought her hand up to her own chest, and it came away bloody. 

Her heart raced. There were nine of them, herself included. Nine was a magical number. It was three squared. Also a magical number. 

She and Pierre led the rest of the group towards the entrance of the palace. The welcoming hall. There were many wizards and witches there, all masked. The idea of a transporting ritual came to her in the beginning stages of a fever. The nine of them were cornered by a wall. She let Giorgio know to cover her while she worked, and he let the others know. Giorgio, Élodie, Pierre, and a student in the year below she and Giorgio, who looked vaguely familiar, surrounded her and four younger students. Even the younger students did their best to help, sending tripping and sneezing jinks at their attackers. One of them conjured a swarm of bees, which caused some screaming. She was inappropriately amused.

Vega wondered if they would die. She was using the blood from her chest wound to write runes when she touched her watch through her robes. She clutched it for a few seconds, Leda’s face flashing before her. If she died here, Leda and Ibis would be the only ones left and Vega was still not one hundred percent sure that Ibis was alive. If Vega died, Leda would be all alone, and the fidelius would fall. Their home was unplottable, but Leda could still become exposed. Vega couldn’t die. She returned to writing runes with renewed vigor. 

Besides, she thought, the ancestor had told her he would appear when she needed him. If he’s not here, then that means either she won’t die--and hopefully neither will the others--or if she dies, she was meant to.

She finished writing. She stood up and her vision turned black. She wobbled. Someone grabbed her. Two someones. She shut her eyes tightly, then blinked several times forcefully. Her vision returned. The two younger children looked up at her fearfully. She smiled, patting them on their shoulders. She whistled to Giorgio. He shouted at the rest of their group. They all retreated into the ward.

Vega clutched her wand upside down in her fist, holding it like a dagger. She could feel the sticky blood on her hand and fingers. It was distracting. She knelt at the center of the double infinity, brought her wand up, and stabbed it into the ground. Flames burst from her wand, spreading through the channels of blood she’d drawn on the ground. She felt like she was being squeezed in a vise. Light exploded behind her eyes.

They appeared in a huge room. Vega heard screams and scrambling. She immediately pulled the flames back into her. Well, she tried. She couldn’t. Her chest burned. She dispelled them instead. 

She saw she was in a great hall. Students in black robes swam in her sight. She heard a loud thump. Her eyes closed. She felt something press against her chest. She could hear Élodie shouting. Begging? Who was she begging? If Vega was supposed to die, there was no sense in begging for mercy. Élodie should run instead.

Vega felt a rush of warmth. Her eyes fluttered open. She was lying on something soft. A man with bright red hair knelt next to her. One of his arms cradled her so that she was only half reclined. His other hand was cupped in front of her mouth. 

Vega smiled.

  
  


\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

  
  


_ Breakfast hour, Hogwarts Great Hall _

_ Auguste Nicolay _

The next morning, the Great Hall was chaos. The main impetus was the Daily Prophet and the events of last night, and Professor McGonagall’s absence from the high table only stimulated more gossip.

Auguste sat down next to Anthony Boot, who slid his copy of the Prophet over. 

“Thanks,” he said. He fixed himself a cup of coffee and grabbed a croissant.

“Where did you go last night, Auguste?” asked Anthony.

Auguste had started reading the newspaper. Without looking up, he said, “I went to speak with Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick. Then I went to the hospital wing, came back to the common room to write a letter, and then went to post it. Why?”

Anthony snorted. “You’re being evasive. Those are just the bare facts. Why did you go speak with the headmistress and our head of house? And you went whilst they were dealing with the magic right behind our backs,” he said jerking his head in the direction of where Vega’s magic had been. “And no one we know was in the hospital wing. Unless, of course, you know one of the Beauxbatons students. Which, considering how white your face became, and how you stopped eating, I’m betting he or she was extremely injured. If you had to write such an urgent letter and post it even though curfew had already started, I’m betting five galleons it was a letter to your parents, either to tell them what happened or to ask them what they knew.”

Auguste finally looked up.

“Well? How’d I do?” Anthony asked.

“No bet,” Auguste said. “You’d be a poor Ravenclaw, and even poorer friend, if you couldn’t guess all of that with what I gave you.”

“Are you going to tell me who you went to visit in the hospital wing?”

Auguste had returned to the newspaper. He grumbled into his coffee, “This paper is useless. I need a copy of La nouvelle époque.”

Anthony sniggered and slid another newspaper over. “Here, I paid the owl already.”

Auguste groaned. “Why are you such a troll? Thanks.” He reached for the French paper, but Anthony pulled it away.

“Un-uh. I want a name or my money back for the paper,” Anthony said, smirking.

Auguste glared at him. “Are you really going to do this before I’ve finished my coffee?” He started checking his pockets for knuts.

Anthony smacked him over the head with the paper. “I was joking about the money. Just tell me who you went to see already. I’m going to find out eventually, anyway,” he said.

Auguste grabbed the paper and started scanning the front page. “Vega Lang,” he said. He flipped to the appropriate page.

Anthony frowned, chewing on his bacon. “Wait,  _ Lang _ ? As in  _ the _ missing Lang children from the genocide in the Central Kingdom?” he asked, looking at Auguste agape.

Auguste nodded, still reading furiously. “Merde,” he muttered under his breath as he tore a chunk out of his croissant.

“What is it?” Anthony asked. “My French isn’t very good, unfortunately. I could only understand the headline and byline.”

Auguste shook his head, chewing. Finally swallowing, he said, “It’s the French Ministry’s official statement. They don’t know what happened. There’s some sort of connection to a terrorist group that operates throughout the muggle Schengen area.”

A female voice responded, “That’s as good as saying a terrorist cell in most of Europe!”

Auguste and Anthony both turned. Allegra Zabini stood behind them, wearing an expectant look. She held a newspaper in one hand. “Good morning,” she said smiling. “I came over because it occurred to me that if I wished to read La nouvelle époque, I need only find a Frenchman. I sent for a subscription this morning, and asked my mother to send me her copies, but …”

“But she lives in Italy, and her owl won’t arrive for at least another day,” Auguste finished for her.

Zabini nodded. “Do you mind lending me your copy once you’ve finished with it? I’ll stay through the end of breakfast,” she said.

“Of course not. I’ll bring it over as soon as I’m finished,” Auguste said. He added, “Do you know if your cousin has a subscription to Die Volksaufklärung?”

“Didi? He should, but,” Zabini paused to glance over at the Hufflepuff table, “I think he already left. I can ask him to lend it to you during lunch or dinner?”

“Yes, please,” Auguste said.

“Would you like my copy of Di Tanto in Tanto?” she asked, holding up the newspaper in her hand.

Auguste shook his head. “Thank you, but my Italian is rusty,” he said. “Is it any good?”

Zabini smiled wryly. “Not really,” she said. “The content is usually informative, but the editorial office is staffed by conspiracy theorists, so whenever something extraordinary happens, it turns pear-shaped.”

Anthony laughed. “I know Italian. May I borrow your paper?” he asked, smiling at Zabini.

“Sure,” she said, handing it over. 

“Thanks,” Anthony said. “Should be good for a laugh.”

Zabini smiled and walked back to her table.

By the time Auguste finished eating his breakfast and reading the paper, he’d come to several conclusions. First, Premier Ministre Romilly was an idiot. Second, the head of the Bureau de la Justice Magique, Dominique Babin, was incompetent. And third, the only competent upper level officials in the Ministère were Henri St. Vincent, the head of Bureau des Aurors, and Alana Lagadec, the deputy to the head of the Bureau des Accidents et Catastrophes Magiques. Auguste said as much when he handed the paper over to Zabini. 

Zabini accepted the paper without so much as a raised brow. “How involved do you think the British Ministry will become?” she asked.

Auguste shrugged. “That depends on whether the students who arrived last night will stay here for their schooling, and also where the rest of the students will go. And how the rest of the Beauxbatons population fared. Only half of the students and staff at most were accounted for by dawn. The wards at the academy were also shredded last night. Some sort of muggle-magical hybrid weapon was used. If St. Vincent and Lagadec hadn’t responded immediately to the attack, the school would have been exposed to Muggle Andorra, France, and Spain overnight,” he said.

“The response was that tardy?” a male voice asked.

Auguste and Zabini turned to face Dieter de Stauf. 

“Didi, I thought you finished your breakfast already?” said Zabini, looking curiously at the container in her cousin’s hand.

De Stauf handed it over to Zabini. “I went to the kitchens to fetch this. I asked the house elves to prepare this for you,” he said.

Zabini peeked in the container. She beamed up at de Stauf. “Thank you, Didi!”

De Stauf shrugged. He looked over at the paper in Zabini’s hands. “La nouvelle époque. Did you lend this to her, Nicolay?”

Auguste nodded. Zabini placed the container down on the table. “Didi, Nicolay was wondering if he could borrow your paper? Do you have it on you?”

De Stauf opened his bag and pulled out a newspaper. “I assume you mean Die Volksaufklärung?”

Auguste accepted it, thanking the older boy. “Should I try to give it to Zabini when I finish with it?” he asked.

“Sure. Is it all right with you if I borrow your paper after Allegra finishes with it?” the older boy asked.

“Of course,” Auguste said. He tucked the german paper into his bag. “I received a reply from my father this morning.”

Allegra looked up. She too, put the paper away. She stood up from her seat, grabbing de Stauf’s proffered hand for balance. 

“Shall we go somewhere else to discuss it?” she said.

Auguste nodded. “I have charms first. What about the two of you? We could head in that direction.”

  
  


\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

_ Noon, Hogwarts Hospital Wing _

_ Hermione Granger _

Hermione watched Poppy Pomfrey fuss over Vega Lang. Harry and Ron had already come and gone. They’d taken statements from all the students except for Lang. She had woken up, Ron told her, while they had been talking to the boy in the bed next to hers. She had looked at Harry strangely before whistling. Giorgio Passerini had looked shocked. She’d winked, and the boy had started to laugh uproariously. 

The noise obviously drew Poppy’s attention. She’d rushed Harry and Ron out, saying they could come back later to talk to Lang. Harry and Ron quickly finished their interview with Passerini before returning to the ministry to report to Hermione.

Hermione had quickly read through all the statements. Most of the details matched, down to the haziness surrounding the wards and magic Lang had used to transport them into Hogwarts. Hermione decided she would kill several birds with the same stone. She told Ron and Harry they could return to their department. She sent an owl to Hogwarts, asking Poppy to let her know when Vega Lang was ready to be interviewed.

Poppy replied two hours later, and Hermione finished her lunch up quickly, before apparating to Hogsmeade.

Hermione had come in time to see Giorgio Passerini say something and point at Vega Lang’s pillow. The girl stuck her hand underneath and pulled out a bone white wand. She smiled at the boy, who grinned. The boy turned around when he noticed his friend’s gaze.

“I suppose,” he’d said, “I should call Madame Pomfrey over.” 

Poppy came out of her office. When she saw Hermione, the matron smiled and clasped her hands. “Hermione, how are you, dear?”

Hermione smiled. “I’m well, Poppy. I hope you’re doing well, too?”

“My back aches, but that’s quite normal after a late night. I suppose you’re here to speak with Miss Lang?” Poppy asked.

“Yes,” Hermione said. “She’s the only one we haven’t interviewed. I need to take a statement.”   
Poppy stepped over to Lang’s bed. She conjured some extra pillows, and helped the girl settle against them. She pressed a hand against Lang’s forehead. 

“I’m surprised you’re awake at all, Miss Lang. I’d calculated you wouldn’t wake for at least another day,” Poppy said. She conjured a pitcher and glasses onto the side table. Turning back to Hermione, she said, “If she starts to flag, call me.” She turned back to Lang, looked at the wand in the girl’s hand and clicked her tongue. “Try not to cast, Miss Lang. While your magical core is back to normal, it’s still on the lower side. I’m exceedingly pleased with your progress, but I don’t want you exhausting yourself so soon after you’ve started to recover.”

Poppy walked back towards her office muttering something. Hermione thought she heard something about a miracle or impossible feat.

Hermione walked up to Lang’s bed. She offered her hand. “Hello, I’m Hermione Granger, the Minister for Magic,” she said.

Vega Lang shook her hand. She raised the tip of her wand. Words of bright orange flame appeared.  _ It’s a pleasure to meet you, Minister Granger. I am Vega Lang. _

Hermione blinked. That was not wholly unexpected. She’d expected … sign language or quill and parchment. Although, considering there was no universal sign language, she supposed the flames were quite handy.

“That’s very impressive, Miss Lang,” Hermione complimented, watching the girl’s face.

Lang’s face didn’t change. No hint of blush or smile. The girl’s head tilted slightly to one side.  _ Is it? Compared to your childhood exploits, Minister Granger? _

Hermione laughed. “While my husband, best friend, and myself may have gotten into a lot of sticky situations as school children, I can still truthfully say that your mastery of the wand is impressive. Most witches would have to write all their words out in the air,” she said.

_ Most witches are able to speak. _

“Yes, Miss Lang, that’s true,” Hermione agreed.

_ Are you going to ask me for my version of events, Minister Granger? _

“Of course, Miss Lang. Are you feeling up to giving a statement?” Hermione asked.

Vega Lang nodded.  _ I’m curious, however. Why is the Minister for Magic questioning me, and not an auror? _

“The head auror has already questioned your schoolmates. You are the last. I wished to speak to you myself, as I have some questions that are … more academic in nature. Head Auror Potter has allowed me to come in his place,” Hermione said. She sat down by the head of the bed, pulling out a file and a self-inking quill. She waved her wand, and the curtains drew themselves, a slight buzzing noise appeared in the background as a privacy charm settled over them.

“How did you transport yourself and eight other people through the wards of Hogwarts?” Hermione asked.

_ I wasn’t aiming for Hogwarts, Minister Granger.  _

“Oh? Then how did you set the coordinates or conjuration direction?”

_ I wanted to take us to a safe place. However, Beauxbatons is unplottable and has anti-apparation wards. The first order of things was to get around those wards. _

“The wards around Beauxbatons fell last night, Miss Lang,” Hermione said.

Vega Lang blinked slowly.  _ I’m not surprised. Brute ballistics augmented with magic set on the ward stones will do that. _

Hermione’s eyes narrowed. “You already knew about that.”

Vega Lang shrugged a thin shoulder.  _ I could feel the wards falling, Minister Granger. I doubt I was the only one who could, especially after Madame Maxime was killed. Besides, Giorgio was able to scrounge up a newspaper. I filled in the blanks. _

“Tell me about that. Did you see any of the duel?” asked Hermione.

_ I saw the whole thing, Minister Granger.  _ Vega Lang looked grave. _ Three people cast the cruciatus on her, before a fourth cast the killing curse. After that, the palace shook, and I could feel the wards starting to fall. They timed it that way, I believe. _

“Can you explain how you came to be with the students you saved?”

_ Giorgio Passerini, Élodie Leblanc, and Pierre Lavalle were with me the whole time. We had left the library, and were on our way to dinner when there was an explosion from the direction of the dining chamber. The wood nymphs ran past us soon after. We rushed to the dining chamber because there was screaming. There were strange wizards and witches in the chamber. Many of our professors and some of the older students were engaged in wandfire with them. Others were trying to get the younger students away from the crossfire. We joined in to help. _

“I see.” Hermione reached over to lift up the pitcher on the side table. “Would you like a glass of water?”

Vega Lang nodded. Hermione poured her a glass before pouring one for herself.

_ Thank you. _ She took a sip.  _ I could tell the fight was not going our way. Madame Maxime had sent a patronus off to the ministry, to alert them of the attack, but we were overwhelmed, and there were more explosions. At least, I think there were. The palace started shaking on and off. I heard someone cry out that the ward room had been breached. _

_ We were fighting near our headmistress when she fell. There were younger students near her she was protecting. Those are the younger ones I brought. I used _

Vega Lang’s fiery script stopped mid-sentence. She took a deep breath. Hermione could see the girl’s hand tremble minutely. She reached over and patted the girl’s hand. “It’s all right. You’re safe now,” she said.

Vega Lang shook her head furiously.  _ That’s not it. _

Hermione noted the flaming words were a darker color, slightly violet even when their caster was upset. “What’s wrong then?”

Vega Lang drank more water. It seemed to calm her nerves. 

_ I used her death to help with my spell. _

Hermione stopped breathing for a few seconds before she realized what she’d done. “Please elaborate,” she said as neutrally as she could.

_ There were a lot of deaths that night, but once Madame Maxime died. Waves of magic--from ambient emotions … the dining hall was awash with it. I channeled the fear and the despair, and I linked it to my blood ritual. I wrote the fear and sadness into the runes, and bound the nine of us into it. I used sympathetic magic to aim for the safest place for us. _

“You said you weren’t aiming for Hogwarts as a destination, though,” Hermione said, more as a statement than a question. She felt relief wash over her. Whatever awful things she’d imagined Vega Lang would say when she stopped Hermione’s breathing, hadn’t happened.

Vega nodded.  _ That’s correct. I aimed for somewhere else where such love and admiration were also felt. The closest location with that much magic and respect and emotion was another magical school. Here. Hogwarts.  _

“I thought you said you used fear and despair?” Hermione countered.

_ Yes, but the fear and despair were intimately entwined with love and respect for our headmistress and school. _

“Why did you think another location with the same feelings would be safe?” Hermione asked.

_ Because a nurturing environment fosters such feelings. I knew that the safest place would be one with similar wards as Beauxbatons. I thought perhaps we would end up in the family home of an old family. I did not imagine we would end up across the North Sea. _

“What about the fire?” Hermione made sure to word her questions simply so as not to ask any leading questions.

Vega Lang sipped from her glass.  _ It’s family magic. Fire is cleansing. It produces ash, new growth. We were leaving a bloody battle for what I hoped was a safer place. Fire could purify the despair and fear, and transform them into energy I needed for the spell. _

“And the double infinity?” Hermione asked curiously.

_ I hypothesized that one infinity would be enough to remove us from the anti-apparation wards of our school. A doubled one was needed to also get us into a well-warded place. Either unplottable or with anti-apparation wards. _

“I see. It was impressive magic,” Hermione said, echoing her words earlier.

At Vega’s sardonic expression and lifted brow, Hermione added, “Much more so than your method of communication.”

Vega let out a small puff of air, the corners of her lips lifted slightly. Hermione supposed that without a larynx, her laughter would also be completely silent outside of the sound of air intake and exhalation.

“Miss Lang, what type of magic would you consider your spell?” Hermione asked.

Vega tapped her wand against the palm of her free hand, looking thoughtful. She finally lifted the tip into the air. _ I set my runes according to arithmantic patterns. The blood was to bind us together safely. The fire to purify the magic and negative emotions around us. Sympathetic magic to hone in on a location. Ultimately, however, it was transfiguration, as I vanished us from one place, and conjured our presence to another.  _

_ I think _ , she added after a pause.

Hermione wrote this down in such a rush, ink splattered on the page. “I suppose you used the number of people to ground the ritual?”

Vega Lang nodded. 

Hermione added another note. “At some point, Do you think you would mind describing this magic again, but to one of our ministry employees from the Department of Experimental Magics? I’d also like you to explain this to Minerva McGonagall, the Headmistress of Hogwarts, and her deputy headmaster, Filius Flitwick.” Hermione finished up her notes and set them back in her bag. “They need to know this so they can avoid unscrupulous people using similar methods to penetrate Hogwarts.”

Vega Lang regarded Hermione carefully.  _ Minister Granger, I doubt many other witches could do what I did unless they had good intentions. I relied on family magic, my own positive memories of love and respect, and that of others. It was sympathetic magic at its best. Unscrupulous witches shouldn’t be able to use the same method to enter Hogwarts. Not even if they too, held great abiding love for the school and its Headmistress. _

“Nevertheless, please share your spell-crafting process with Professors McGonagall and Flitwick. We need to ensure Hogwarts stays safe, Miss Lang.”

_ All right. _

Hermione sipped her glass of water. She set it down and said, “Miss Lang, I wish to ask you some questions about yourself now.”

_ Of course.  _ Vega gestured with her free hand, palm up to show that she was open to Hermione’s questions.

“You are Vega Lang. To be precise, you are Lady Vega, the head of the Lang family, one of the four Southern Cardinal houses of the Central Empire?” Hermione asked.

Vega Lang inclined her head forward once.

“You have been missing for six years. There was a search for you and your siblings,” Hermione continued.

Both of Vega’s brows lifted.  _ Was there? _

“Yes. Because there was indication that the three of you had not perished with your parents, and you were effectively orphaned and without close family once it was confirmed your grandmother, the previous head of the house, had died,” Hermione explained.

Vega’s head tilted to one side.  _ Who do you think identified her corpse? _

Hermione’s eyes widened in astonishment. “Did you … ?”

_ With everyone else dead or in hiding, and as you succinctly put it, myself and my siblings orphaned, our only recourse was to search for our grandmother. Unfortunately, she too, had been murdered. _

“The ICW said that she died from an accident!” Hermione exclaimed.

Vega Lang shook her head.  _ Minister Granger, your reputation precedes you. You are the brightest witch of your age. Are you provoking me on purpose? _

Hermione smiled wryly. “Yes, I am. I’ve been trying to gauge exactly what you are, Miss Lang.”

_ What I am? Not who? _

“That’s right. Are you the victim of a tragedy? Was your family betrayed? Or are you a self-made orphan?” Hermione watched for any changes in Vega’s face.

Vega Lang calmly took a sip of water. She set it down again, stuck her wand in her sleeve, and slapped both hands together hard. Fire sparked and morphed into a sphere. She held the sphere of fire out to Hermione, and pulled her wand back out with the other.  _ Here. If you want to know what happened the day my parents died, all you had to do was ask, Minister Granger. _

Hermione looked at the sphere dubiously.

_ It won’t burn you, Minister Granger. _

Hermione took the sphere. It was pleasantly warm. As she stared at it, a scene began to play out in the flames. Two children in the streets. The taller one carrying a third child. They arrived at a park. Before long, the middle child pestered the eldest child, eventually running off. The eldest and youngest stayed in the park for some time before the eldest pulled out a watch. Then panicked. The eldest grabbed the youngest child and stuck the toddler in--a coin purse with an undetectable extension charm? Then shoved it into a pocket before running from the park, back into the streets. The child skid to a stop in front of a house on fire. Muggles were gathered around, mystified as to why there was smoke high above, but nothing seen to be on fire. The child slipped through the throng and into the house. 

Inside, a man lay spreadeagled on the ground, eyes open. The child checked his pulse, then pulled her watch out to consult again. She fell over gasping. Crying, she closed the man’s eyes. Then got up and ran up the staircase. She was calling for someone. She stopped, appearing to have heard a reply. She ran into a room. A woman lay on the ground. She was on fire. She didn’t seem worried about it, but she did look like she was in pain. One hand clutched a broken wand to her chest. The other reached out for the child.

The child gathered the woman’s torso into her arms, wholly disregarding the flames. The woman caressed the child’s face tenderly. They spoke. The child shook her head. Then again. Then she nodded. She left the woman on the ground, and went to a different room. A study. She opened a safe and swept its contents into her coin purse. Then she ran to another room. Her bedroom. She grabbed clothing and shoved them into her coin purse. Another two bedrooms. All children’s clothing. She opened other doors, calling for someone. She swept food into her coin purse as she looked through the kitchen. She looked through the rest of the house. It was devoid of other people. She ran back to the room with the woman.

She gathered the woman’s torso into her lap once more. The woman didn’t respond, even though she was still breathing. The child sat there while the woman’s flesh continued to burn, and the house around them, too. The woman stopped breathing eventually, and the child set the burning corpse down. She stayed, watching. She found a knife and sliced her hand open, dripping blood onto the burning corpse. The fire on the corpse roared and a bird, brilliant and huge appeared. It transfigured into a man. The bird-man spoke with the child before setting one hand on the corpse. The corpse burned to ash almost immediately. The house fire changed in intensity and the flames … changed color?

The bird-man plucked something from the remains of the corpse. It was a feather. It transfigured back into a bird, tucking the feather into its plumage with its beak. The bird flapped its wings. It turned its head, looking up in Hermione’s direction and--   
Hermione squeaked in surprise as the sphere of fire exploded in a shower of ash. She looked up at Vega Lang.

The girl drank deeply from her glass.  _ Do you still believe me a self-made orphan, Minister Granger? Do you still suspect me to be a danger to Hogwarts and wizarding Britain? _

“No, Miss Lang. You know very well I never believed that,” Hermione said. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. “Who was that animagus?”

_ What animagus? _

Hermione frowned. “Are you being deliberately obtuse, Miss Lang?”

Vega Lang tilted her head far too one side, looking particularly wide-eyed and innocently at Hermione.

Hermione had a thought that lasted half a second before she scoffed. Vega Lang watched her closely and nodded. Hermione inhaled sharply. “You’re not saying that was the  _ Vermillion Bird _ , one of the Four Divine Beasts, a  _ god _ ?”

_ Yes, Minister Granger.  _ Vega Lang nodded. Hermione had a sense of deja vu. Like watching a film on mute with subtitles on.

Hermione shook her head in disbelief. “You can’t be serious--”

_ Minister Granger, aren’t you best friends with a man who survived the killing curse, not once, but twice?  _

Hermione huffed, “Yes, but there were forces at play there that the general public doesn’t understand, you see. Forces, which unfortunately I cannot divulge.”

Vega Lang shrugged both shoulders.  _ I don’t see how the existence of divine beings is unbelievable if you can believe your friend could survive the killing curse. _

“Harry is obviously alive, though. There is living and breathing proof.”

_ Just as you have living and breathing proof of Harry Potter’s existence, so too, do I have proof of my ancestor’s existence. _

“Do you really believe you are descended from a mythical beast, though? How do you know the man you met wasn’t just an animagus?”

Vega Lang gave Hermione a long look. She lifted her wand, finally.  _ There are three occasions when the divine ancestors will appear before their descendants. The first is after the birth of a child. The child will be brought to the temple of the guardian on an astrologically significant day, and presented to the ancestor. In my case, it was the first day of summer after I was born. The Vermillion Bird appeared, and as with others born of the South, he fed me a tendril of his fire. I was able to absorb it, so he fed me more. And more. He fed me enough to make me immune to fire, and gave me the ability to wield it as I wish. This is what they refer to as the Vermillion Bird’s blessing. I am therefore his true heir.  _

Hermione thought back to the child who had sat with a burning corpse inside of a burning house. She had assumed the child--young Vega Lang supposedly--had received medical treatment for smoke inhalation and burns. Was Vega Lang claiming otherwise?

Vega Lang lifted her wand again.  _ You don’t believe me. That’s understandable.  _ She conjured a candle and lit its wick.  _ Please inspect this flame. Is it not normal? _

Hermione briefly held her hand over the flame. It was hot. Much warmer than the sphere of fire and memories. 

Vega Lang conspicuously set her wand on the table next to her. The girl held one hand over the flame. 

And kept it there. 

After thirty seconds, Hermione’s mouth gaped. She tried to take the candle away, but Vega Lang’s other hand shot out and held Hermione’s hand in place. The hand above the candle remained steady.

After two full minutes--which Hermione counted in her head, simultaneously horrified and fascinated, Vega Lang finally pulled both hands away from Hermione and the candle. The girl held her hand palm up for Hermione’s inspection. It was unblemished. 

Vega Lang picked up her wand again.  _ Touch my hand, Minister Granger. _

Hermione vanished the candle before she took the proffered hand. She trailed a finger over the skin. It was no warmer than her own. “How?” she asked.

_ I told you already. I have the blessing of the Vermillion Bird. _

“But, not everyone has it, right? The woman in your memory--your mother--she burned to death,” Hermione said.

Vega Lang shook her head.  _ My mother had a strong affinity for fire, but she did not have our ancestor’s blessing. There are very few true heirs, after all, and never more than one per guardian living at the same time. _

“Could you not have put out the fire at your home, then?” Hermione asked.

_ No. That was originally fiendfyre. My mother transmuted it into her own fire. _

“Her own fire?”

_ Each of us is composed of five elements, Minister Granger. Wood, fire, earth, metal, water. My mother transmuted the fiendfyre with her own life force. That’s ultimately what killed her, not the injuries she suffered.  _

“Why would she do that?” Hermione asked, enthralled and intrigued.

_ Besides making sure the rest of the city did not burn? She did not know for certain if my younger brother was still in the house. My mother had one of these. _ Vega Lang pulled a watch out from beneath her sleeping shirt. She lifted the chain over her head, opened it and showed it to Hermione. _ I ran home that day because Ibis took too long to get his kite. I watched as his watch hand moved from ‘commuting’ to ‘home,’ and then immediately to ‘in mortal peril.’ As I ran home, so too, did the hands of our parents move to ‘in mortal peril.’ _

Hermione took the watch. It had five hands on it. It was very similar to the enchanted Weasley family clock. The words on the watch face were in French.

A hand with Vega’s face swiveled between ‘school’ and ‘in hospital.’ Another hand, with the face of a pretty little girl with black hair, pointed at ‘home.’ Two hands, one of a handsome black-haired man, and the other a beautiful woman with auburn hair, pointed to ‘dead.’ The last hand was a boy with auburn hair. It pointed at ‘in mortal peril.’

‘Your brother Ibis’s hand … is this accurate?”

Vega Lang sighed.  _ Leda’s hand and my own are accurate, as are my parents’. There’s no reason to believe Ibis’s is the only inaccurate one. It hasn’t moved from ‘in mortal peril’ in six years, however. I have searched for him, though, and I have not been able to find any clues of his whereabouts. _

Hermione handed the watch back to its owner. “If what you showed me is true, I’m curious as to why you would not offer to allow me to view the memories in a pensieve,” she said.

Vega Lang lifted the chain of the watch back over her head, slipping the watch under her shirt.  _ I cannot use a pensieve. The ancestor has made it so that my memories are mine, and mine alone. _

Hermione wondered. “Your muteness … and the lock on your memories … are they related?” she asked.

Vega Lang held her glass up to Hermione.  _ That’s a Bingo, Minister Granger! _

Hermione ignored the film reference. “You told Madam Pomfrey the lack of larynx was a gift to you. Or rather, your friend Giorgio Passerini told her that was what you informed Madame Thierry at Beauxbatons infirmary. Why is it considered a gift?”

_ Minister Granger, if you were a child caring for another child, and you had no way of protecting what was in your head, what do you think you would have done? _

Hermione openly gaped at Vega Lang.

Vega Lang smiled winsomely, eyes crinkling, dimples showing in both cheeks.

“But surely,” Hermione paused, searching for the right words to say. “Surely, your ancestor could have simply taught you occlumency?”

_ Minister Granger, do you realize how busy my ancestor is? Under normal circumstances, he must traverse the Central Kingdom, helping maintain the balance of fire in nature, and also greet his descendants when they present newborn children, or when they return to him in death. When most of us were killed in the genocide six years ago, he became even more busy because he no longer has any descendants helping him in the mortal realm. _

“Is that why he appeared when your mother died? That’s the second sort of occasion at which he’ll appear?” Hermione asked.

_ Yes, but certain conditions must be met.  _

“I believe I’ve read about this,” Hermione said, finally feeling like she was on even ground again. “Your great-great-grandfather, Ya Wyn, wrote a treatise on the transmutation of a soul and body after death. He mentioned that the way a body is returned to nature is important.”

_ Yes, that’s correct, Minister Granger. I’m surprised you’ve heard of his work. It was published in Chinese. _

Hermione shrugged. “I know French. Nicholas Flamel referenced him a few times in his twentieth century works. I used a translation charm to read Wyn’s work, of course. What are the specific conditions that must be met for your ancestor to appear after death?”

_ For those of us of the South, our bodies must be burned. We must also return a piece of the ancestor which was offered for our protection and use when we were presented to him as newborns. _

“The feather that was retrieved from your mother’s ashes?” Hermione mused.

_ Yes.  _ Vega Lang finished her glass of water. Hermione refilled it for her.  _ Yes, he offered a feather to her when she was presented to him as an infant. It was eventually crafted into a wand for her. I returned it to our ancestor in her place. That is the third condition. Another descendant must be present. Our blood, his body, and the deceased return to nature through fire. These are all required in order to summon him. _

“Theoretically speaking, if there was no other descendant, could someone save a vial of blood taken from the deceased person, cremate the corpse, and then use that blood to do what you did?” Hermione asked.

_ No.  _ Vega Lang shook her head emphatically.  _ Dead blood will not work. It must be living. _

“I see. What is the third occasion during which your ancestor will appear before you?” Hermione asked.

Vega Lang smiled brightly. She even winked, the cheeky child.  _ When he’s bored. _

Hermione had been taking a sip of water when she read Vega Lang’s reply. She almost spat. “W-when he’s  _ bored _ ?” she said, incredulous. She dabbed at her mouth with a handkerchief.

Vega Lang spread both hands and shrugged.  _ I am not sure if it’s because I am his heir, or if he’s fond of me, or because he has so few living descendants left to preside over in birth or death. In any case, he has appeared before me more times than I can count. _

“So I take it that isn’t normal, then?” Hermione asked.

_ Of course not. Although, Leda says even when I’m not home, he shows up once every few weeks to see her, so I suppose he’s actually fond of both of us? He almost reminds me of a man with children too many to count, who finds himself with only a few all of a sudden, so instead of spreading his time amongst many, he inundates the few of us who remain with his presence. _

Hermione’s jaw dropped. She’d lived long enough and experienced enough strange things--the Deathly Hallows and Harry’s death, namely--that she’d allowed this strange and powerful child to convince her of the existence of the Vermillion Bird, and what followed logically, the existence of other gods. But the irreverent way Vega Lang described a god was absolutely bewildering.

Hermione found her bearings eventually. “Miss Lang, why do you trust me with this information?” she asked.

Vega Lang regarded her evenly.  _ You are a good person. You fought against a dark lord for selfless reasons. I think that if I have to trust a stranger, you’re a logical choice. _

“Thank you, Miss Lang,” Hermione said, feeling a tiny bit touched. She thought of something. “Your words imply that you don’t necessarily trust other people with what you’ve shown me?”

Vega Lang shook her head.  _ Of course not, Minister Granger. If you must know, I haven’t told you everything. Only what most people have already guessed. I’ve merely opened your eyes to possibilities, as some might call it. _

Hermione smiled. “I am a muggleborn witch, Miss Lang. After all these years, I am continually surprised by the things I learn about magic,” she said. She pulled a clean sheet of parchment from her bag. “You realize I need to report some of this to the ICW?”

Vega Lang sighed and nodded. 

Hermione started drafting a letter to François Barbier. She looked up at Vega Lang, furrowing her brow. “Miss Lang, you have cousins here at Hogwarts.”

Vega looked at her dispassionately.

“And you have cousins at Durmstrang,” Hermione added.

_ You’ve researched my family tree quite thoroughly. _

“But you chose to attend Beauxbatons, where you have no cousins currently. You only started attending after an older cousin graduated, however,” Hermione said.

_ What are you trying to say, Minister Granger? _

“I’m saying that you don’t trust your extended family. There must be a lot of reasons for that. And you must have been very busy in the two years between the deaths of your parents, and your appearance at Beauxbatons,” Hermione said.

Vega Lang inhaled deeply, eyes closed. She sighed. She opened her eyes. Hermione could see the flecks of red in her hazel eyes. They reminded Hermione of a shifting flame. 

_ Minister Granger, I’ve told you all I’m obliged to, and all I intend to. Please respect my boundaries. _

Hermione packed her belongings away with a wave of her wand. “Yes, of course, Miss Lang. I do have one more thing I want to ask you, however.”

Vega Lang raised both brows inquiringly.

“Your wand,” Hermione gestured at it. “Why can’t most people handle it?”

Vega Lang looked down at her own wand. She looked back up at Hermione.  _ You’re an intelligent witch, Minister Granger. Why do you suppose most people can’t handle it? _

Hermione frowned. She’d have guessed at family curses before she talked to Vega Lang. After seeing the memory of her parents’ death, however, she had revised her hypothesis.

“Mr. Nicolay told Minerva McGonagall only someone with the blood of the Vermillion Bird could even  _ hope _ to touch your wand without adverse effects. Minerva told me your wand was hot, even through two layers of dragonhide. Your third cousin was able to pick it up, although she too, had to wear a layer of dragonhide. Was your wand crafted so that only someone with your ancestor’s blessing could hold it, Miss Lang?”

_ Bingo.  _ Vega Lang smiled lazily, twirling her wand. 

Hermione sighed. “I had been hoping to examine it, actually. I suppose there isn’t a way for me to do that, then?”

Vega Lang pursed her lips.  _ There is, but I shan’t tell you. Not today. _

“‘Not today’ implies that you may change your mind in the future,” Hermione hedged.

Vega Lang shrugged.  _ Have we covered everything, Minister Granger? _

Hermione stood up, picking up her bag, and setting her chair next to the wall. “Yes, Miss Lang. I wish you a speedy recovery. Although, I believe Madam Pomfrey is already astonished at your healing rate. I believe,” she said, looking down at Vega Lang, “we will see each other again in the future.”

Vega Lang waved cheerfully.  _ Good bye, Minister Granger.  _

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some character introductions:  
> Giorgio Passerini: Italian. 15 years old. Halfblood. His mother is a muggleborn, which caused some tongues to wag in Italian high society.  
> Élodie Leblanc: French. 17 years old. Pureblood. She's and Pierre are engaged to be married once they finish school.


	4. In which fealty is gladly pledged, but grudgingly accepted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Giorgio is a mother hen, and Vega is the henpecked chick. The Beauxbatons' students see their parents, and the parents meet the child who saved their children. Vega finally meets her cousins and childhood best friend after six long years.

_Early afternoon, Hogwarts Hospital Wing_

_Giorgio Passerini_

After the British Minister for Magic left, Giorgio pushed the curtains away from Vega’s bed. His friend sat there staring blankly at her wand. Giorgio pulled a chair over to sit by her.

“How are you?” he asked.

Vega smiled at him. She whistled three chirps.

“I’m as well as can be. You should eat,” he told her.

Vega grimaced and shook her head.

Giorgio nodded his head exaggeratedly. “You must. You missed dinner last night, and you only had broth this morning.”

Vega looked rebellious. Giorgio sighed, rolling up his sleeves, he said, “Don’t make me call Madame Pomfrey. She makes Madame Thierry seem like a puppy in comparison.”

Vega sighed. She whistled low.

Giorgio smiled cheerfully. “That’s the spirit, Vega! Liddy!” 

A house elf appeared in front of Vega’s bed. It bowed. “What can I bes getting yous, dear guests?” Liddy asked.

“Liddy,” Giorgio said, “Please prepare a light lunch for Vega. No pumpkin juice, however. Perhaps mint tea to calm her stomach?”

Liddy nodded and disappeared. A minute later, a tray with soup, roasted vegetables, and hot mint tea appeared.

Vega picked up a fork and prodded at a carrot. She stared at it as if she’d never seen carrots before. 

Giorgio rolled his eyes. “If you don’t finish at least half that tray, I will call the matron over.”

Vega started eating slowly.

Giorgio sighed and turned away. Watching Vega eat could be excruciating. Giorgio suspected Vega had nearly starved to death at some point before she came to school. She had probably eaten too much after a period of starvation, and made herself sick. She often wouldn’t eat until she was nearly faint with hunger, and when she did, it was extremely slowly.

Balancing how much he nagged her to eat, and trying not to have to watch her eat was a delicate task. He wished he could get her to see a therapist, but he knew that was a hopeless task. Vega trusted very few people, and even those she trusted knew how fragile the trust was.

Giorgio flopped down on his bed. He pulled out the medical text the matron had leant him. It was mostly herbological. 

After about half an hour reading the footnotes of the text--the author was really funny--Giorgio glanced over at his friend. She had eaten a little less than half the vegetables and soup. She had finished the mint tea.

Giorgio returned to the text. He started looking through the references, wondering how much of the text was original research, and how much of it was based on secondary literature. He looked over again after a quarter of an hour. Vega had finished her soup, and eaten a little more than half the vegetables. She’d set her fork down, and was staring at the wall across from her.

Giorgio shut the text. He got up and called Liddy, and asked the house elf to remove the tray. The elf looked at it, and clucked her tongue, but disappeared with the tray.

Vega continued to stare at the wall. Giorgio sat next to her again. “Vega, what do you think will happen?”

She looked at him, one brow raised.

Giorgio scrubbed his face with both hands. He kept his face hidden in his palms and muttered, “Beauxbatons will have to be rebuilt. It’s 23 September. The school year has only started. What do you think will happen to all of us?”

Vega frowned. She whistled, high then low, then chirped twice. She didn’t know, then.

Giorgio lifted his face up. “What will you do?” he asked.

Vega picked up her wand and tapped it. _I haven’t decided._

“Will you stay? Your cousins and your childhood friend will probably be overjoyed if you do,” he said.

Vega looked at him sharply. _What are you talking about?_

“They visited you here last night, while you slept. One of your cousins--a Zabini, brought you your wand. How did you think your wand got under your pillow?” he said.

Vega shrugged. _I thought maybe you figured out how._

Giorgio shook his head. “I have suspicions, but I’d never do it without your consent,” he said.

Vega whistled twice in a low pitch, thanking him.

“So?” Giorgio prompted, “will you stay?”

She lifted her wand. _I think I’ll decide after I see my cousins. Did you get the name of this childhood friend?_

“Yes. Auguste Nicolay,” Giorgio said.

Vega breathed in deeply. She closed her eyes, and rested her head against the mound of pillows Madame Pomfrey had arranged for her. She lifted her wand without opening her eyes. _I’ll make my decisions when I feel better._

“All right,” he said.

  
  


\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

  
  


Giorgio sighed as his mother sobbed into his shoulder, and his father kissed him on the head over and over again. Headmistress McGonagall had led a group of worried parents into the Hospital wing about ten minutes ago, and his parents had immediately embraced him and not let go since. 

He glanced around the room. Similar reunions were occurring by other beds. Vega and Jean-Pierre Vernet were the exceptions. Their reactions were vastly different, however. While Vega looked through a battered copy of _Hogwarts: A History_ , which Liddy had brought her, Vernet looked at the families sadly.

Giorgio’s Papà finally stopped showering him with kisses, and offered a handkerchief to his Mamma. She dabbed daintily at her eyes and cheeks.

“Giorgio, dear, Headmistress McGonagall has said that we are welcome to eat in the Great Hall if we wish. Or even take you to the nearby village if the medi-witch says you are fit enough. Do you want to eat downstairs? Or would you rather stay here in the infirmary?” Mamma asked.

Giorgio looked over at Vega worriedly. He glanced over at Vernet, who was now staring at his bedsheets despondently. “Let’s eat here, Mamma. I want to eat with Vega, and the matron hasn’t cleared her to stand, let alone leave the infirmary,” he said. “And Vernet looks lonely.”

His parents looked over at Vega. His father asked, “Is that the friend you’re always talking about? The one with a strict but absent guardian who doesn’t like to eat?”

Giorgio nodded. 

Mamma cried, “Of course we’ll eat here with her! She’s such a skinny thing. Giorgio, you must encourage her to eat more. She looks like she’ll waste away. I can’t believe her uncle didn’t come. Poor thing.” Giorgio made a mental note to tell Mamma Vega knew Italian.

Mamma twisted Papà’s handkerchief into a tight wad. “Is Vernet the boy who’s staring at his bedsheets?” she asked.

“Yes, Mamma. He’s muggleborn. Even if his parents received an owl or the newspaper, it will take them time to travel here the muggle way,” he explained. “Actually, I don’t know if they’ll be able to visit him here in Hogwarts.” Giorgio hoped Vernet didn’t speak Italian.

“Vernet,” he called. The boy looked up. “My parents are going to eat in here. Do you want to eat with the three of us and Vega?”

Vega looked up when she heard her name. She whistled.

Giorgio placed his hands on his hips. “You only had soup and a little bit of vegetable for lunch. That was four hours ago! You’re eating dinner,” he said sternly.

Vega sighed and flopped back against her pillows. Giorgio’s Mamma giggled at the subdued tantrum.

Vernet got up from his bed, and cautiously walked over to Giorgio’s family. “I’m not actually friends with your son, and don’t want to intrude on your family time …”

Papà patted the younger boy’s shoulder. “Nonsense, child! The more the merrier,” he said.

Vernet smiled. “Please call me Jean-Pierre, Signore Passerini, Signora Passerini.” He turned to Giorgio, “May I call you Giorgio? Or am I being too forward?” he asked.

Giorgio smiled at him. He clasped Jean-Pierre’s forearm. “I would be glad to call you Jean-Pierre, and you may call me Giorgio.”

Papà and Mamma smiled.

  
  


Giorgio’s family wasn’t the only one which decided to eat in the hospital wing. Pierre and Élodie both declared to their families that they wanted to stay and eat with their friends. Emboldened by the older students’ declarations, little Marielle Manet told her parents that she wanted to eat with Vega, who had saved them all from certain death.

Manet’s parents were stunned by her words. Her father, a tall dark-haired man stepped up to Vega’s bed. He bowed low. He straightened up. “Thank you, Mademoiselle Lang. The Manet family owes you a debt which we can never hope to repay.”

Vega sat in shock. She shook her head and lifted her wand. _No, M. Manet. Your family owes me nothing. Your daughter, as well as all the other students in this room, all protected me as I inscribed the transportation ritual. I could not have gotten any of us out safely without their help._

Monsieur Manet shook his own head. “No, Mademoiselle Lang. Without you, I am certain Marielle would have perished last night. You don’t realize this, perhaps, but the ministry was chaos last night and this morning. Many families have lost their children. Marielle is our only child. Without you and your intelligence and bravery, our daughter would have died.” he said.

Madame Manet stepped forward to join her husband. “If you ever need anything, do not hesitate to come to us, Mademoiselle Lang. We will do all in our power to help you,” she said.

Vega brought her wand up with a shaky hand. _Thank you._

Giorgio also stepped forward. He took both of Vega’s hands into his. “Dear Vega,” he said, “You are my best friend, and now you are also my savior. I too, owe you a life debt. I will always follow you, even if the path is dark. This, I promise you.”

A flash of light appeared as he finished his promise. Papà and Mamma stepped forward. Mamma kissed Vega’s cheeks, and Papà her hands. They both bowed, and declared a family debt to Vega.

Vega looked positively aghast now. Still, she brought her wand up. _I accept your thanks._

One after another, the other families stepped forward and declared their families in debt to Vega. Even Vernet, who was from a muggle family, caught on quickly and stepped forward to declare he owed her a life debt. Vega looked more and more upset, but her manners and upbringing did not allow her to reject any of them. Giorgio would have laughed at her expression, if this was not such a serious matter.

Eventually, everyone settled down, deciding they wished to dine with the young lady who had saved their children. The house elves summoned a table, rearranging the furniture in the hospital wing so that Vega and Étienne Dufort could face everyone at the table while staying in their own beds.

As they tucked into the food, Nicolas Martel’s father turned to Giorgio’s Papà and asked him what he thought he would do about Giorgio’s schooling.

Giorgio, who was nagging at Vega, sat back down so he could listen in on the conversation better. Papà turned and said to Giorgio, “Well, son? You’re nearly a man, now. You’ve seen first blood, which I had hoped would never happen, but it has. Do you have any ideas about what you’d like to do? Where you’d like to go?”

Giorgio set down his fork and knife. He sipped his sparkling cider. He wished it was wine. It would pair with the pork much better than cider. “I don’t know yet, Papà. I will go wherever Vega goes,” he said, nodding his head in her direction.

Papà smiled broadly. “That is a sound decision, Giorgio. You have promised to follow her, so you should stay by her side,” he said.

Mamma opened her mouth to say something, but she was interrupted by three students entering the hospital wing. They stopped and stared at the Beauxbatons contingent. It was Vega’s cousins and childhood friend.

Allegra Zabini stepped forward, but Madame Pomfrey zipped out of her office and stood before the three students. 

“Madam Pomfrey,” Zabini said, “Good evening. We were hoping to sit by Vega’s bed for a bit before going down to dinner.” She peeked around the matron’s back. “We didn’t expect her to be awake and engaged in a dinner with others, though.”

Madame Pomfrey stared at the three for a bit longer before she sighed. “If your cousin and the other guests wish for you to join, you may stay. If not, please come back after you’ve eaten,” she said.

“Thank you, Madam Pomfrey,” Dieter de Stauf said. Madame Pomfrey nodded and retreated to her office.

De Stauf stepped forward. He bowed to the dinner table. “Good evening. We’re sorry to interrupt your dinner. As you heard, we are relatives and close friends with Vega Lang, and we were hoping to visit with her. Would you mind terribly if we talked to our cousin briefly? We’ll leave and come back later, but we really wish to ascertain the state of her health before we do so,” he said.

Monsieur Leblanc looked inquiringly at his daughter Élodie, who in turn looked to Vega. Several other parents looked to their children, who likewise looked to Vega. 

Élodie spoke first. “Vega, dear, we would love to have your cousins and friends sit down to dinner with us.”

Pierre agreed with his fiancée, as did little Marielle Manet and her friend in the same year, Alba Pereira Santos. Their parents joined in, too. 

Vega finally nodded. She lifted her wand. _Please join us for dinner, Dieter, Allegra, Auguste._

Giorgio watched Zabini’s face light up. De Stauf smiled good-naturedly. Nicolay’s eyes crinkled. The younger Hogwarts student smiled more with his eyes than mouth.

Monsieur Lavalle conjured chairs for the three Hogwarts students, and they settled down near Giorgio’s family, who sat closest to Vega. The three introduced themselves before reaching for napkins and utensils.

Giorgio’s parents watched approvingly, but Giorgio also saw Mamma’s brow furrow in confusion. Oh dear. He’d led his parents to believe Vega was from an unimportant family, possibly even muggleborn. De Stauf, Zabini, and Nicolay were important families, and their children displayed manners befitting of their stations. Giorgio watched as many of the pureblood parents put two and two together and realized Vega was not only related to the de Staufs and the Zabinis, she was a _Lang_ . In fact, she was _the_ Lang, and they had just sworn promises to the head of the family.

Well. The cat was out of the bag by now, anyway. He’d explain to his parents in private later.

As dinner wore on, Giorgio stayed silent, only answering the occasional question, which were mostly from curious parents who wanted to know more about his relationship with Vega. He watched parents’ faces closely, trying to gauge who was more mercenary, and who was more sincere. He watched some them look curiously at Vega each time she raised her wand to display a message, and he met Pierre and Élodie’s gazes more than once, raising a brow each time. Pierre nodded at him, and Élodie would quirk one side of her mouth.

Finally dinner ended. Unanimously, the parents all decided their children should stay in the hospital wing, even if the matron had cleared them to leave. Some lingered and kissed and hugged their children, others handed sweets over. They all filed out once Madame Pomfrey came out of her office. 

Only de Stauf, Zabini, and Nicolay remained. They arranged themselves once more around Vega’s bed.

Giorgio caught Vega’s eye. He raised his brows. Vega whistled three chirps at him. She’d be fine. Giorgio left the hospital wing to walk his parents to the gates. Time to face the inquisition.

\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

_Auguste Nicolay_

Auguste gazed at his childhood friend. Now that he could see her torso without a blanket covering her, he confirmed that she was indeed quite thin. The Vega of his childhood had always been a slim child, but her face had carried baby fat, and when she smiled, there were dimples in her cheeks, below her eyes, even on her chin. This adolescent Vega looked thin and tired.

Auguste let Vega’s cousins speak first. They were her family, after all.

De Stauf raised privacy wards and pulled the curtain around them before he spoke. “Hello, Vega,” he said gently. “I’m so happy you remember our faces.”

Zabini elbowed her cousin. “And we’re overjoyed to see you,” she added.

Auguste spoke. “As am I.”

Vega smiled brilliantly at all three of them. Zabini took this as an invitation, and she leaned forward so they exchanged la bise. De Stauf was too far away to do the same, so he picked up Vega’s hand and kissed the back of it. Vega turned to Auguste, and leaned forward. Auguste also exchanged la bise with her.

Everybody was silent for a moment. Finally, Vega lifted her wand. _Surprise?_ She looked only a little contrite.

Auguste took her free hand in his. “Vega, we don’t blame you for anything. I can’t even imagine what you went through that summer. I wouldn’t be surprised if you don’t even trust the three of us,” he said.

Zabini placed a hand on Vega’s knee. “Nicolay’s right. We’re just happy you’re alive,” she said.

Auguste added, “I’ve wanted to see you for so long, I thought I had lost my wits when you appeared in the Great Hall.”

Vega’s eyes crinkled, and a puff of air left her nose as she huffed in soundless laughter. She squeezed his hand before letting go.

De Stauf looked at her critically. “How _do_ you feel? Madam Pomfrey says you’re stable, but very weak. You’ll be in here for a week or two, at least.” The blond boy waved his wand, and the pillows behind Vega’s back fluffed themselves up.

Vega smiled at him. _Thank you. I feel all right. I'm a little tired, but that’s all._

Unlike Auguste, Zabini hadn’t removed her hand from Vega’s person. She looked at her cousin with concern. “Will you tell us why you never contacted the family? We,” she gestured to the three of them, “have our suspicions, of course, but we want your trust. In order to rebuild that, we need to know why you hold everyone but your friend Passerini in distrust,” she said.

Vega’s eyes widened. _How do you know I trust Giorgio? What did you all talk about?_

“Don’t worry,” Auguste said, “he only told us about how you met, that he knew about your wand, and a few other small details. A lot of it was just his personal observation.”

“We figured he wouldn’t pretend to be a close friend of yours if he wasn’t actually,” de Stauf said. “Besides, he mothers you.”

Vega rolled her eyes. De Stauf grinned, and Auguste stifled laughter. 

Zabini squeezed Vega’s knee. “Well, little eagle? Won’t you tell us what happened six years ago?”

She pulled a watch out from beneath her robe. She opened it and showed it to them. Auguste’s breath caught in his throat. Ibis’s hand sat at ‘in mortal peril.” 

Zabini and de Stauf inspected it before closing it and handing it back to Vega.

“Well, at least Leda is safe at home?” Zabini ventured.

Vega looked down. She looked like she might cry. Zabini conjured a glass of water for her. Vega took a few gulps before setting it down. _I have been searching for Ibis for six years. His watch hand has been in that position without change for all that time._

Zabini sucked in a quick breath. De Stauf looked grim. Auguste’s heart sank, thinking about the burnt marriage contract. Ibis had been close to five the last time Auguste saw him at Great-Uncle Ari’s funeral. Poor little boy.

Zabini moved from her chair to Vega’s bedside. She hugged her younger cousin, rubbing circles against her back.

“Tell us what happened that made you go into hiding instead,” Zabini said.

Vega looked sad. _The watch. Ibis had left the park to fetch his kite. I let him go by himself. His hand went from ‘commuting,’ to ‘home,’ to ‘in mortal peril.’ Mother and Father’s soon changed from ‘home’ to ‘in mortal peril’ as well._

The three of them processed this. De Stauf spoke first. “Vega, if Ibis made it home before his life was endangered, and your parents’ lives became similarly endangered almost immediately after … it sounds like someone with access to the family wards attacked them.”

“Not to mention,” Auguste added, “it sounds like he may have been held hostage against them.”

Zabini nodded. “Your father was a world ranked duelist, wasn’t he? Only a severe handicap like a child held hostage could fell your father,” she said.

Vega shrugged. They tacitly took that to mean she agreed.

“What happened after you left home?” Auguste asked.

Vega lifted her wand. _I took Leda and fled. We were headed for father’s family’s home. Before we arrived, I heard about the earthquake in Yunnan. I knew what it meant, but I went anyway._ Vega’s shoulders trembled. Zabini handed her the glass of water again.

 _The Sun ancestral family home was gone._ Vega drank deeply from her glass, but she gasped as she attempted to drink and choked. Tears leaked out of her eyes.

De Stauf reached over and took the glass away. Auguste handed her a handkerchief. Zabini continued to rub circles against Vega’s back.

“Take your time, darling,” Zabini said softly.

Vega took a shuddering breath. Zabini murmured, “That’s it. Deep breath. Let it out. Another deep breath. And … let it out.”

Vega followed her cousin’s instructions. She finally lifted her wand again. _Our only hope was my grandmother. She left a week after my grandfather’s funeral to investigate grandfather’s disappearance._

Auguste frowned. “Didn’t he disappear on that muggle aeroplane flying from Malaysia to Beijing? Speaking of which, why was he traveling by muggle means?” he asked.

_He had fallen ill. He was travelling with his personal healer, who was also a cadet branch Wyn, and two Kaos._

“Were they so worried for his health, these two Kaos, that they travelled with him on a muggle aeroplane?” De Stauf asked.

Vega nodded. _They were worried, but also curious enough to try muggle transport._

“Yes, but why do you believe it was murder?” De Stauf asked, inferring what his cousin hadn’t said.

 _The muggle authorities have no idea what happened, but eyewitness accounts claim they saw it on fire. Also, my grandfather was in great health. His constitution had always been robust, and he made sure it stayed that way. Yet, he contracted a mysterious illness, one bad enough that he couldn’t travel by magical means?_ Vega shook her head. _I smell something rotten._

“You don’t believe it’s a coincidence, then,” Zabini said.

Vega took a deep shuddering breath. _No. Even had I not been suspicious, once I found out what happened to my grandmother, I was certain the aeroplane’s disappearance had been an assassination._

“What did you find out about your grandmother?” Auguste returned to the earlier question.

_She stopped in Tibet and Bangladesh to see friends. After that, nobody knows where she was for a month. Her body was found by muggle authorities washed up on the Buriganga. Luckily, a friend of the Jao family works in the auror liaison office with muggle police. Any time the cause of death is inconclusive, such as when someone has been hit with Avada Kedavra, the liaison office is consulted. The Jao family friend recognized my grandmother’s personal seal. He tried to contact the Jao family, but unluckily, they too, had been attacked, and went into hiding._

Zabini gasped. She looked to de Stauf with wide eyes. Vega didn’t look up from her bedspread. She nodded angrily. _Someone with an indefinite invitation into our home killed my parents. They also killed the Wyns, and drove the Yehs and Kaos into hiding. After that, they killed all the Western families, and half of the North and East. We were BETRAYED. We were SLAUGHTERED._

De Stauf stood up. He hugged both his younger cousins, kissing the top of each of their heads. Auguste couldn’t intrude on this hug. He wasn’t family even if he’d been treated like it once upon a time.

Zabini shot him a look. Auguste’s brows furrowed. She jerked her head at Vega’s free hand. Auguste understood the message. He took Vega’s hand.

The four of them stayed like that until Vega lifted her wand. _Didi, I’m getting a crick in my neck. Can we all let go?_

De Stauf laughed and let go. He sat back down. Auguste retracted his hand.

Zabini looked a bit grim. She didn’t let go of Vega. She continued to rub circles against Vega’s back. “Vega, there’s something Didi and I have been discussing. It isn’t happy, but it may not be true,” she said.

Vega rested her head against Zabini’s chest. _What is it?_

“It’s about Uncle Bertram,” Zabini said. Auguste’s head jerked up. He and his father had had the same suspicions as the cousins, evidently.

So Vega listened as Zabini and de Stauf explained their thoughts, and Auguste told her about the burnt betrothal contract.

Vega sighed. _I want to trust my family. I really do, but how can I when we distrust each other? The three of you must know I attended Beauxbatons expressly so that I could avoid you all._

Auguste felt his heart lighten. Vega still regarded him as family, even if she had trouble trusting them.

Auguste made a decision. He reached over and laced the fingers of his hand with Vega’s. It was an intimate gesture, a powerful one, and he could feel de Stauf’s heavy stare and Zabini’s glare. “I promise you--no. _I swear_ on my magic, and on those of my descendants, I will help you find who killed your family, and make sure justice is served,” Auguste said.

Auguste felt a surge of warmth rush through him. It started at his fingers, and spread from there. De Stauf and Zabini had stopped trying to kill him with their eyes. Vega looked at him with wide eyes, mouth slightly agape. Auguste used his free hand to gently tap the bottom of her chin, reminding her to shut her mouth.

“You can’t get rid of me, and you can’t shut me out from this. I’ve sworn to help you. I will resort to more desperate measures if I have to, Vega,” he said, smiling pleasantly.

Vega shut her eyes and took a deep breath. _You were always a determined bastard._

Auguste chuckled. “I had to be, if I wanted to be your best mate. You were so reticent even as a toddler, I used just about every method available to get you to talk and play with me.”

Vega gave him the stink-eye. _I only played with you in the beginning because you threatened to eat my snacks if I didn’t._

Auguste shrugged. “It worked,” he said, “didn’t it?”

She laughed. Auguste wondered as he catalogued the sounds she made. Her laughter was mostly gasps of breath. No sounds came from her larynx regardless of her level of gaiety. How does a witch physiologically become mute? Auguste decided to ask about that another day. Vega looked ready to pass out.

Zabini was giving him a look again. Auguste untangled his fingers from Vega’s. 

Zabini shifted so she could face Vega. She brought her wand out and sliced open her palm. She held it up to Vega’s face. “Blood of my blood, we share the blood of the Vermillion Bird, even if I have never been presented to him. I promise to help you avenge the family we shared and lost, and the family you alone lost. I promise to follow you until these deeds are done. I give you my allegiance. I swear this upon my blood. If I should break my word, my blood will burn me alive,” she said.

Vega looked dismayed, but she sliced her own palm open, and shook Zabini’s hand. A flame sparked between their hands. It disappeared quickly. Neither girl blinked.

Zabini moved back to sitting next to Vega. De Stauf moved forward to stand closer to his cousins. He sliced his palm open and offered the same pledge as Zabini. Vega’s wound had cauterized when she accepted Zabini’s hand. She reopened the cut and accepted de Stauf’s hand. A flame sparked once more. Still neither cousin blinked or flinched.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya guys! You may or may not have noticed that I alternate between "Madam" and "Madame." This isn't necessarily a typo. When any of the Beauxbatons students think about Poppy Pomfrey, for instance, they use "Madame." When the native English speakers (or in the case of Allegra and Dieter, Hogwarts students) refer to her, they use the English "Madam."
> 
> la bise = French greeting. It's when they 'kiss' each other on the cheek. They don't actually kiss lips to cheek. It's cheek against cheek and you make a kiss noise. I know. Sounded strange when I first learned it. But when you actually do it, you realize it's less awkward than actually kissing someone's cheek. Also, if you think about it, you can't actually kiss someone's cheek lips to cheek while they do the same thing. At least, my lips aren't that flexible.  
> Regionally, some people do both cheeks, some people only one--although that's seen as less intimate even a bit rude? Some people even do three kisses. I'm not French, though, so please don't ask me which regions do how many kisses. In the scene above, they all just do two kisses (both cheeks).
> 
> Also, if you were wondering, when Giorgio speaks to Vega, he switches between Italian and French. She does the same with him. The dinner was conducted in French, as that is the lingua franca of Beauxbatons, and most of the table is French. The Passerinis did speak to Allegra in Italian for part of dinner, but otherwise, everything else was in French. When Auguste, Allegra, and Dieter finally get to speak to Vega in private, that conversation is also conducted in French. This is mainly because Vega preferred to speak French more than German or Italian as a child, but additionally because Allegra and Dieter are being polite to Auguste, who is a native French speaker.
> 
> Character introductions:  
> Jean-Pierre Vernet: French. 14 years old. Muggleborn. Although both his parents are muggles, his mother suspects her own grandmother was a squib. He comes from middle-class working parents. His family moved to French Quebec two years ago. That's why they haven't arrived to see him, yet. He has a younger sister who has shown signs of accidental magic.  
> Marielle Manet: French. 11 years old. Halfblood. Both her parents are halfbloods, but the Manets are an old political family with many judges, politicians, and diplomats. She is distantly related to the artist Édouard Manet. She is the younger child who ran up to entreat the staff at the Hogwarts High table to help an injured Vega in chapter 1. Her father often wonders how he and his wife, who are both calm and cool-headed, have such a tempestuous daughter--it's because they spoil her as she is their only child.


	5. In which the Zabini Family fight with words, tears, food, and drink

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right chicas and chicos. I know all the OCs are confusing. That's why I've copied and pasted part of the family tree from the end notes of ch 2 here.
> 
> b. 1917, Lukas Luxemburg --m-- b. 1915, Isidora Zabini  
> b. 1940, Rosalie Zabini | b. 1947, Ignatz Luxemburg | b. 1950, Helena Zabini  
> b. 1968, Marcello Zabini .... b. 1975, Levin Luxemburg ... b. 1975, Berenice Zabini  
> b. 1996, Filiberto Zabini .....b. 2004, Emmerich Luxemburg ... b. 2000, Achille | b. 2004, Allegra (Alli)
> 
> The only addition is Rolf Luxemburg, Emmerich's younger brother.  
> I've done my best to include relations with names (in relation to Berenice, since this chapter is in her POV). Also, all you need to remember for the other names dropped are that Lukas's siblings are Theresa and Albert; Didi is Theresa's progeny; and Bertram is Vega's uncle (her mother's brother).
> 
> I've also used different language terms for Uncle/Aunt, Grandmother/Grandfather, etc. This is according to whichever language the speaker or the POV associates with that relative. If it gets too annoying, please let me know. There is a glossary at the end, if it's needed. I should also disclaim any deep knowledge of Italian however. I know some German, but great-[anything] is beyond me. I used a dictionary, so if anyone catches mistakes, do let me know. I will fix them.
> 
> Also, I've decided not to write house elves' speech in their patois. It gets on my nerves, trying to decide which verbs to conjugate wrongly, and where to add an extra -s-.
> 
> Please enjoy.

_Arezzo, Italy_

_Berenice Zabini_

Berenice Zabini gently set her daughter’s owl Romilda onto a perch. The bird rubbed its head against Berenice’s hand and cooed. She filled a water bowl and summoned a strip of dried meat for Romilda before leaving the aviary.

Settling down into a chair, Berenice opened her daughter’s letter. As she read, Berenice’s eyes widened, and she placed a hand over her heart. Berenice tucked the letter into her pocket, and waved her wand, summoning her patronus. She gave it a message and sent it off. Then she turned to her desk and started drafting letters. They were all brief, but to the point.

* * *

Dear ----,

I am hosting a family meeting in Arezzo on the morrow. Celandine’s eldest, Vega, has appeared at Hogwarts, according to Allegra. Vega was at Beauxbatons when it was attacked on 22 September. She and other Beauxbatons students escaped attack, and are being treated at Hogwarts.

All my best,

Berenice

* * *

Berenice duplicated her message, addressing one each to Nonno Lukas and Nonna Isidora, her mother Helena, Zia Rosalie, Zio Ignatz, cousin Levin, cousin Marcello, and Marcello’s son Filiberto. As she finished sealing the last of the letters, a crack of apparition was heard. Soon after, her son Achille appeared in the doorway of the study. He looked like he had dressed in a rush. He had paired a red robe with a maroon cloak.

“Mamma,” he said breathlessly, “what is the matter?”

Berenice handed him his sister’s letter. He read through it quickly. She walked back to the aviary, her free hand tucked into his arm, leading him while he read. He finished, looked down at her, opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, then closed it again. Wordlessly, she handed him half the letters. They attached them to owls without speaking, then returned to her study.

Achille handed the letter back to Berenice, and she tucked it back into her pocket. 

“Mamma, is it possible Allegra may be mistaken? She hasn’t--none of us have seen Vega, nor any of the Langs since Grand-Oncle Ari’s funeral,” said Achille.

Berenice shot him a withering look. “Do you think your sister is a fool, Achille? Her letter mentions that the Nicolay heir recognized your cousin, in addition to Allegra and Dieter. Allegra herself had to deliver Vega’s wand,” she said.

Achille frowned. “That doesn’t preclude the possibility of confirmation bias, Mamma. And what does a wand have to do with identity? Vega didn’t have a wand when we last saw her,” he said.

Berenice breathed in deeply, shutting her eyes. Have patience, she told herself. Bless him, but Achille had never paid attention to his non-Italian heritage.

“Your Great-great-grandfather Ya Wyn’s wand was red maple, and its core was a feather of the Vermillion Bird, our ancestor,” she said. “Your Uroma Ulrike couldn’t even touch it until after she gave birth to your Bisnonno and his siblings. Over the years, several de Staufs, Luxemburgs, de Courtenays, and Zabinis have all tried to handle that wand. Did Uroma Ulrike never ask you to try waving a wand when you were young?”

Achille screwed up his face, thinking. Eventually, he seemed to recall something. “I think I came across it once, but she didn’t let me touch it. Did Alli ever try Great-great-grandfather’s wand?”

“No,” Berenice said, shaking her head. “After one of your German cousins set Uroma Ulrike’s house on fire, she stopped allowing her progeny to try handling her husband’s wand.”

Achille huffed a laugh before asking, “But Alli alone could handle the wand of this witch who is supposedly cousin Vega?”

Berenice sighed aloud. “Once the family gathers here to discuss your sister’s tidings, we will make a trip to Scotland to see this girl. I do not doubt your sister’s words, though.”

Achille pinched his eyebrows, thinking. Berenice reached over and pulled his hand away from his face. “Dear, stop that,” she said.

Achille made a face when he saw the brow hairs between his fingers. “Mamma, is there anything you need me to do? Perhaps at work?” he asked.

“Yes,” Berenice said. “I need you to see if you can get a copy of the investigation files from the Arsonist Summer.”

“Do you only want the investigation pertaining to the Langs, or all of the attacks?”  
“All of them,” she answered.

Achille yawned into one hand. He stood and headed for the door. “I’ll have those for you by afternoon, hopefully. You’ve called for the meeting to be held here. When is it?”

Berenice glanced at the clock. “Today. Once everyone arrives, we will start. Hopefully, they will all come in the morning. We will await you and those files. Do your best, but don’t get in trouble,” she said.

Achille nodded and left.

Berenice walked over to a bookcase, and pulled out several texts. She called for Lili, one of the house elves, and asked for a carafe of coffee. Lili looked a little upset hearing that her mistress did not plan to sleep, but complied when Berenice gently explained that a missing cousin had been found, and she needed to make a protective talisman for the child.

Berenice sipped her coffee while she consulted arithmantic charts. It was going to be a long night, and an even longer day.

By early morning, Berenice had a full bladder and a rough idea of how she was going to construct the protective talisman. She leaned back in her chair, rubbing her shoulders. At that moment, Lili popped in with a cappuccino. 

Berenice took the proffered cup with a sigh of delight. “Thank you, Lili. What would I do without you?”

Lili harrumphed, then said, “Mistress, masters Filiberto and Marcello are here. Should Lili show them in?”

Berenice sipped her cappuccino slowly. “Show them into the dining room and offer them breakfast or coffee, whatever they want. Tell them I’ll be there shortly,” she said.

Lili nodded and popped away.

Berenice savored the bitterness of the espresso, and the creaminess of the buffalo milk. She was exhausted. She set the empty cup back on its saucer, made a trip to the washroom, then slowly made her way to the dining room.

On the way there, Berenice came across her mother Helena, and her grandparents Lukas and Isidora. She greeted them, they returned her greetings and apologized for coming at such an ungodly hour. 

When the four of them stepped into the dining room, Nonno Lukas had to immediately raise a shield to avoid being splattered by a pot of coffee. Nonna Isidora looked at the spilled beverage in horror. 

“What in Merlin’s name are you all doing? How dare you waste good Ethiopian coffee?” Nonna Isidora snapped.

Everyone who was engaged in the food fight and yelling stopped what they were doing. They turned as one to look at the head of the family in various degrees of fright and delight.

“Bisnonna Isidora!” Filiberto said with a wide smile. He wiped a glob of butter off his forehead. “So happy to see you. Good morning, Bisnonno Lukas, Prozia Helena. Thank you for the wonderful breakfast, Zia Berenice.”

Berenice looked around the room. “Yes, I see you found a good use for the breakfast Lili slaved over,” she said dryly. 

Lukas opened his arms wide. “Rolf, dear boy, come give your Bisnonno a hug,” he said.

The eight year old was the only one not covered in food or liquid. He’d taken shelter behind a potted plant when tempers had flared. He rushed up to embrace his great-grandfather, then his great-grandmother, and then Helena and Berenice. Lukas slipped a gold coin to the boy while Isidora stepped properly into the room to berate her progeny.

Berenice sighed and started casting cleaning charms and vanishing the wasted food and coffee. Her mother Helena and Nonno Lukas helped.

Meanwhile, Nonna Isidora was only getting warmed up. “You waste good coffee, and you start a fight with a child in the room! Levin, you ridiculous boy, why did you even bring Rolf? He is too young to listen to accounts of murder and abduction! Filiberto, don’t smile at me. You know very well you’re just as culpable as the rest of them!”

After Berenice cleaned up the mess, sent the repaired crockery back to the kitchen, and asked Lili to bring fresh coffee and a light repast for the rest of her guests, everyone finally settled down around the dining table. 

“Rolf,” Isidora said, “I’m sorry your father brought you. He ought to have known better. After you finish eating, I need you to go find Lili, and ask her to take you to the library and read while we discuss things.”

“May I go see the birds in the aviary instead, Bisnonna?” asked Rolf.

“That’s up to Zia Berenice,” Isidora said. She poured Lukas and herself coffee.

Berenice placed more fruit on Rolf’s plate. “Of course you may go see the birds, Rolf. Lili will take you wherever you ask, as long as it is reasonable,” she said.

“Thank you, Zia!” Rolf said, then started eating with gusto. Berenice smiled fondly. 

After Rolf finished eating and left with a skip in his step, everyone turned to Berenice. They started speaking all at once.

Isidora banged a gavel on the table. Berenice wondered if she had summoned it, or if she kept it on her person at all times.

“All of you, be quiet! You would think Lukas and I never taught you any manners. Let Berenice speak,” Isidora said.

Berenice pulled Allegra’s letter out of her pocket. She consulted it briefly, then levitated it over to her Nonna. “As you all know from my message, Allegra has informed me that Vega has been found. In fact, she has been attending Beauxbatons for the last few years.”

Filiberto waved a hand, but Lukas shook his head at his great-grandson, mouthing silently at him to wait.

“I presume everyone has heard already about the attack on the french academy, and the closing of the borders. This, coupled with the restrictions on travel in muggle Europe, has made it extremely difficult to get accurate news. Di Tanto in Tanto’s editors are printing drivel again. I have asked Achille to obtain copies of the investigative reports of the Arsonist Summer. He will be here by afternoon, hopefully,” Berenice told the table. Her mother refilled Berenice’s coffee for her. She nodded gratefully and took a sip.

“You will eventually hear about the nine students who miraculously appeared in the middle of the Great Hall of Hogwarts, using some type of blood and family magic. What you all must know is that Vega and Leda escaped the Arsonist Summer. However, where they live, or who is taking care of them is a mystery. Allegra said that it’s possible the Lang girls don’t actually have a magical adult taking care of them. 

“My dear daughter actually asked me whether Vega didn’t trust any of us, or if she reached out to us, but we,” Berenice gestured around the table, “adults didn’t trust the children to know where the Lang cousins were.”

Nonna Isidora turned to her husband to ask, “Lukas, you had no idea your brother’s great-granddaughters were in Europe, did you?”

Nonno Lukas shook his head, “No, dear. I had no idea where they were at all.” He looked at each of his children and grandchildren, then sighed. “I’ve no idea what you all have been up to, but it distresses me that my brother’s progeny does not trust any of us. Not even myself or Theresa.”

Nonna Isidora patted his shoulder. She gestured for Berenice to speak again.

“Most disconcerting is the fact that Vega has no vocal cords--”

“What?”

“What in the world?”

Berenice paused. Isidora was giving Filiberto and Levin a gimlet eye. Both men shut their mouths. Levin scooted infinitesimally in the direction opposite Nonna Isidora, while Filiberto mimed locking his mouth and throwing the key away. Berenice saw Zia Rosalie roll her eyes at the young man’s impertinence.

Berenice continued. “I am given to believe that healers have attempted to regrow Vega’s vocal cords, but have so far been unsuccessful. Additionally, Vega has described this missing tissue as a gift of all things, rather than a cursed wound.

“So the most pressing issues we must discuss as a family today are these points. First, who is the guardian of Vega and Leda? For now, we shan’t speak of Ibis, since he remains unaccounted for. Then, do the girls even have a guardian? If they do not, then who in the family will assume those responsibilities? For that matter, will Vega and Leda agree?” Berenice finished her coffee, wetting her throat. Her mother poured her a glass of mineral water. She smiled in thanks.

“Second, we need to seriously consider that someone in our family has betrayed the Langs. I know,” Berenice said holding up one hand, “that this is a serious and offensive accusation. Nevertheless, it has been six years since Vega escaped her parents’ murderers with Leda. She had ample time to think, and evidently she concluded that one potentially untrustworthy family member was enough to render us all suspicious. She went so far as to avoid Beauxbatons until after Filiberto graduated.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Berenice saw FIliberto’s head swing up in outrage, then his expression relaxed into one of contemplation.

“The third and final point to discuss is the attack on Beauxbatons,” said Berenice. “I have kept abreast of the strange events happening in the last decade. The Arsonist Summer was only one example of mass murder. From 2013 to 2016, there were numerous sightings of nundus in _West_ Africa. Whole villages died from fever and hemorrhaging. And since 2018, possibly even earlier, there have been ships vanishing on routes within the Mediterranean. There are other events, but those have been the most noticeable and gained the most international--and muggle--attention.”

Nonna Isidora spoke. “Let’s discuss the first issue, then, since it seems like the most immediately relevant and resolvable one.” 

Levin raised his hand, and Isidora nodded, giving him permission to speak. “Presumably, all of the Langs, Wyns, Ips, Kaos, and Suns are dead or in hiding. Precluding Vega’s Chinese relatives, then Oncle Ari was the next closest relative. As he was a de Courtenay, logically the Lang children should be under the aegis of the de Courtenay family, not the Luxemburgs.”

Levin’s father, Ignatz replied. “Yes, but that’s only because Onkel Albert and Tante Marielle married on equal terms with several clauses in the contract about an heir for Marielle’s family. We are heirs to house Luxemburg only because Onkel Albert predeceased Papà, and I was born before Ari. If Ari had taken the Luxemburg name, then it’s possible Bertram would have, too. Thus, our conundrum.”

“Well, no matter how we slice the pie, Bertram is still their closest living blood relative,” Marcello said, siding with Levin. 

“Yet Vega did not go to him,” Ignatz countered.

“That’s the assumption,” Rosalie said, arguing against her brother.

Berenice’s mother Helena spoke, siding with her brother Ignatz. “If Vega had gone to her mother’s brother for shelter, we surely would have known. Bertram is too ambitious to hide from all of Western and Southern Europe that he is raising the head of a Cardinal Family.”

“Surely he would have the sense to do so since most of them were murdered!?” Rosalie exclaimed.

“ _Especially_ since most of them were murdered. He would flaunt that he was raising two girls, whom he will help to rebuild the southern part of the Central Kingdom and reestablish the Southern Cardinal families. They will have second and third sons vying to offer marriage contracts,” Helena said.

Ignatz sighed. “So really, we know nothing other than Vega and Leda live, and Vega distrusts us,” he said.

Filiberto raised his hand. He looked confused, “Does Oncle Bertram know?”

His father, Marcello said, “We just went over this. None of us knew.”

“No, Papà,” Filiberto shook his head. “Does Oncle Bertram know that Vega is at Hogwarts--that is, did anyone write to him?”

Berenice pondered the question. “It’s possible he does not know, yet. Allegra would naturally write to us. I’m sure Dieter wrote to your sister, Nonno Lukas. Who would have written to Bertram?”

After a moment of awkward silence, Helena said, “No one, then. I suppose one of us should inform him his sister’s daughters are alive.”

Nonna Isidora delegated that task to Berenice, then said, “We still haven’t solved the issue of the Lang girls’ guardianship. Are they to be under the Luxemburgs--or one of the Zabinis? The de Courtenays? Possibly even under the de Staufs?”

“My love,” Nonno Lukas said, taking his wife’s hand, “my sister’s husband will want to marry the girls to his great-grandsons. It will not do.”

Nonna Isidora smiled wickedly. “Do you not think I desire to marry a Zabini male off to Vega? Or Leda if Vega must marry a Chinese wizard?”

Nonno Lukas smiled back at his wife. “You, I know and trust personally. And a materfamilias of an old family wouldn’t covet another materfamilias’s marriageable status.”

“All right. Then that’s settled. We will make a trip to Scotland. If Vega is amenable, you will assume responsibilities as her regent,” Nonna Isidora said.

Berenice drank deeply from her glass of water, before setting it down to rub her temples. She could feel a migraine starting. She reluctantly revisited the second issue. “Since the Langs’ guardianship, or at least legal regency has been tentatively settled, we must discuss the delicate topic of kin-slaying,” she said, staying faced forward, resolutely ignoring her mother’s exasperated expression. It was bad enough she was sitting facing Nonna Isidora. 

Nonna Isidora turned to Nonno Lukas. “This concerns your blood family. I think you should lead this discussion,” she said.

Nonno Lukas looked sad as he nodded. “Kin-slaying is a very serious accusation,” he began. “However, as dear Berenice has said already, we must entertain it.”

“Papà,” Rosalie said, “I don’t understand why we must entertain the paranoia of a traumatized child. Surely you don’t believe one of us would aid and abet in _genocide_?”

Lukas looked at his eldest child reproachfully. “Rosalie, do you remember at all what it was like before Grindelwald was defeated? Do you remember what it was like wondering if your Mamma or I were dead or alive? The primal fear of being hunted?” He looked around the table. “Vega is not paranoid. As you’ve rightly surmised, her parents’ murder and the unimaginable hardship a nine year-old on the run with a toddler to care for, have left indelible scars on her body and mind. Wholesale murder of sixteen families--main and cadet branches all included--would make any sane and competent adult wary, let alone a young child. I don’t like to say this, but Vega’s intelligence is a double-edged sword. She wouldn’t have survived and hid well all these years without it, but her trauma was probably compounded due to her hyperawareness of a dire situation.”

Filiberto murmured under his breath, “Ignorance is bliss.”

Nonno Lukas continued. “It isn’t paranoia if it has a basis. Therefore, I don’t want to hear anymore attempts to invalidate Vega’s feelings and actions. Am I understood?”

Zia Rosalie looked like she had swallowed a lemon. Marcello looked embarrassed on behalf of his mother. Everyone around the table nodded or murmured agreement.

“Papà,” Helena said, “I believe some of Rosalie’s sentiments still stand. I find it highly revolting to contemplate the idea of one of us, or one of our spouses betraying the Langs, and improbable that one of us would participate in genocide. How are we going to determine who has the potential for kin-slaying? You saw what this room was like when we arrived. None of us are hesitant to display our tempers in the privacy of a family home.”

“Will you subject everyone to Veritaserum, Papà?” Zio Ignatz asked quietly.

Nonno Lukas and Nonna Isidora looked at each other. Isidora answered for her husband. “No, dear. Veritaserum isn’t lie-proof, especially considering the occlumency training all of you have. Besides, your father abhors its use.”  
“Then what will we do, Mamma?” Zia Rosalie asked.

“We will each cross-examine all members of the family past the age of majority. Yes, Berenice,” Nonna Isidora said, “even Achille will be questioned. He may have only been fourteen when the Langs were murdered, but Grindelwald, Voldemort, the IRA, and ISIL all recruit young. We will exclude ten year-old Allegra from suspicion. After we have resolved our suspicions about each other, then we will summon and question each of your spouses.”

Berenice slowly lowered her hand. “All right. When are we starting? Today? Tomorrow?” she asked.

Nonna Isidora looked about the table. “I hope everyone put in for a few days of leave. If not, do so today.” She cast a tempus. “Berenice, please take care of us while we stay in your home. We will start once Achille arrives with the investigative reports from the ICW. Let’s adjourn for now.”

Berenice summoned Lili and asked her to ready the guest rooms. Her family went off in different directions. She headed for the potions lab. She had a full-blown migraine to treat.

After drinking a headache reliever and a wide-eye potion, Berenice returned to her study to write letters to Bertram and Allegra. After some hesitation, she wrote one to Vega. She would seal it within Allegra’s correspondence.

Once the letters were complete, Berenice apparated to the nearby shopping center. She purchased several types of sweets from the Cremonesi shop before returning home.

Berenice found Rolf still in the aviary, petting and singing to a long-eared owl. Romilda was still recovering, so Berenice decided to use one of the younger birds, a handsome eagle owl with a predilection for frogs. 

“Rolf, would you like to help me attach letters?” Berenice asked.

“Oh! Yes, Zia Berenice!”

Berenice smiled at his unbridled enthusiasm. “Come here, then.”

Rolf must take after his grandfather Ignatz, Berenice thought. The boy was very gentle with the birds, but he knew how to talk to them so they listened. If he didn’t receive a familiar before he went to school, perhaps she would get him one.

\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

After an exhausting week of interviews based on the information from the ICW reports, and comparing and contrasting everyone’s interview (interrogation?) notes to each others’, Nonno Lukas was finally satisfied that none of his descendants had helped murder the Langs. 

Berenice was exhausted. Nonno Lukas had relied on her expertise as a former auror and so a lot of the cross comparison analysis had been done by the two of them. Naturally, a lot of yelling and tears had been aimed at the two of them, as well.

Berenice looked at the letter from her husband. He had been away for a conference when Allegra’s letter had arrived, and she had let him know not to come home yet. At first, Sabino had been happy to extend his trip, but now he was complaining that he missed his own bed and Lili’s cooking.

After sending off a reply telling Sabino he could come home, Berenice went in search of her Nonno. She found him sitting in the gazebo, reading a letter while enjoying a light repast.

“Nonno,” she said, leaning down to kiss his cheeks.

“Good morning, Berenice,” Nonno Lukas said. He set down the letter, and gestured to the spread. “Have you eaten already?”

“I have, Nonno, but I wouldn’t mind some coffee,” she replied.

Nonno Lukas poured her a cup. Berenice sniffed appreciatively. Nonna Isidora must have brought her own roast. 

“Remind me to thank Nonna for bringing coffee. Where are the beans from? Honduras?”

“Indonesia, I think.”

“Oh. Interesting. It has beautiful wood and chocolate notes,” Berenice said, surprised.

“I see that you brought some papers with you, Berenice. Is there something you wish to discuss?” Nonno Lukas asked.

Berenice set down her coffee. “Yes, Nonno. It’s about Vega and Leda’s protection,” she said. She passed a parchment to him. “Please look at this.”

Nonno Lukas looked over Berenice’s arithmantic calculations and the list of potions ingredients.

“This is impressive work for someone who never attained a mastery in arithmancy or potions,” he said.

Berenice sipped from her coffee. “Yes, that’s why I need you to look at the calculations. If there are mistakes, I need to know. Afterwards, I will ask Sabino to look at the potion formulation,” she said.

Lukas frowned slightly. “This potion calls for blood, but it’s to be ingested. This isn’t for familial wards,” he said.

“No, it’s not,” Berenice agreed.

“What is this, then?”

Berenice looked intently at her Nonno. “Nonno Lukas, I will need you and Großtante Theresa to cooperate with me in order to make protective talismans for Vega and Leda. These will be for them to carry. Should anyone attack them, they can use the talismans to alert the two of you. In addition the talismans will act similarly to the protective wards of an ancestral home.”

“I see. You are attempting to anchor them with our blood in the potion, and a token for all four of us to carry. It’s a pity we cannot trust Bertram to help with this, instead.”

“Actually, Nonno, there are some advantages to using yours and Großtante Theresa’s blood. Even though Bertram was born of a Lang woman, his affinity for fire is only marginally stronger than most wizards. You and Großtante Theresa have strong water affinity, however, so I believe I can tie an invocation to Melusine through the Luxemburg bloodline,” Berenice explained.

Lukas looked surprised. “That’s clever. Will the blessing from the Vermillion Bird not interfere with that?”

“I intend to anchor the protections to both Melusine and the Vermillion Bird,” she answered. “Water and fire aren’t necessarily opposing forces, and I think that the Vermillion Bird would understand why we have to invoke his name and divinity in conjunction with another immortal. He has few enough recognized descendants left.”

Lukas handed the parchment back to her, saying, “I only wish my parents’ sexes had been reversed. That would have made the invocation even stronger, if I were a main line descendant.”

Berenice smiled mischievously. “Nonno, I think it’s enough that you and siblings resemble your father. There weren’t all that many Asian men lingering about Germany for Uroma Ulrike to cuckold her husband.”

Nonno Lukas guffawed. “Do you know, Ari was only able to court Lee Lang for that same reason? His wand core was also indicative of his affinity for both fire and water, besides being incredibly rare.”

Berenice thought for a moment, sipping on her coffee. “Wasn’t his wand core a Thunderbird feather?” she asked.

“Yes. My brother paid a small fortune for his son’s wand,” Nonno Lukas said. “Our mother and my sister-in-law thought he was being excessive, of course. Said a phoenix feather or dragon heartstring would also do well for him, but Albert insisted that Ari should nurture both affinities, and our father agreed, so that was that.”

“I see,” Berenice said. “There are no mistakes, then?” She pointed at the parchment. 

“No, I don’t believe so,” Nonno Lukas said.

“All right, Nonno. Thank you. I’ve sent for Sabino to come home, by the way,” she said, reaching over to refill her coffee.

“That’s fine. It’s time to expand our investigation, anyway,” he said. He laughed when she sighed. “Cheer up, dear. We’re almost done!”

Berenice rubbed her forehead. “Nonno. Even if we can say with certainty that it isn’t anyone from our branch of the family, how will we know whether we can trust Großtante Theresa’s family, or Bertram and his wife?” she asked tiredly.

Her Nonno patted her knee. “Let me worry about that. I will talk to Theresa too, about the talismans,” he said.

“Thank you, Nonno.”

“By the way, I don’t suppose Bertram has replied to your letter?” Nonno Lukas asked.

“No,” Berenice said.

“Then perhaps, you should read this,” Nonno Lukas said, handing her a letter along with its envelope.

Berenice noted that the envelope was addressed to the paterfamilias of the house of Luxemburg, with full titles and styles. She glanced quickly at the signature at the bottom of the parchment. Bertram had signed it as head of the house de Courtenay, also with full titles and styles.

Evidently she hadn’t been able to hide her look of distaste quick enough because her Nonno patted her knee again, and chuckled. “Berenice, you’d best not let your mother or grandmother see you make that face,” he said.

Berenice huffed. She read the contents of the letter. Her brows furrowed in concentration, then shot up.

* * *

My Lord Duke,

I thank you wholeheartedly for informing me the whereabouts of my sister’s heir. She is in great need of protection from her betters and elders. You must know that even though your information was tardy, I appreciate the information nonetheless. Better late than never, of course. Your message was extremely brief, however. There was essential information missing. Where, for instance, is Leda? I do not understand why you have withheld her whereabouts even after Vega’s has been revealed. After all, Leda is fourth in line to inherit my seat. Her place in the line of succession to your seat is so far behind others, including myself, that it is almost negligible in relevance. 

Please, as the brother to mine own grandfather, won’t you do me the courtesy of telling me where my beloved niece resides? I will provide my sister’s heirs with the best of everything. I will treat them as if they were my own children.

* * *

  
  


“First of all,” Berenice ground out through gritted teeth, “Vega isn’t just Celandine’s _heir_ . She is _already_ the Lang March Lady. And as the true heir to one of the Four Guardians, she _outranks everyone below the rank of king._ Then this idiot implies that we have been hiding both girls all this time, and we are still hiding Leda. _Worst of all_ , Nonno, he’s insinuating that you’re attempting to steal potential heirs of his house. He all but said the words line theft! What is this _garbage?_ ” 

Berenice slapped the letter down on the table, incensed at her cousin’s temerity. “Also, how could he be so rude as to write to _you_ in reply to _my_ letter? You’re not even my head of house. Nonna is!”

Nonno Lukas laughed. It was not a happy laugh. It didn’t reach his eyes at all. “Under no circumstances are we going to allow Bertram or his wife to see Vega or Leda without trusted supervision,” he said, voice deceptively calm.

“How in the world did Tante Lee give birth to such a rude pretentious bastard? I pray to Morgana his children don’t end up like him!” Berenice said fervently.

“Don’t worry, Berenice. When his children go off to school, I’ll make sure they have classmates who ground them. And if I find out he had any involvement in the deaths of anyone in this family, I’ll personally make sure he never sees the light of day again,” Nonno Lukas said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Italian familial terms  
> Nonna/Nonno - Grandmother/Grandfather  
> Bisnonna/Bisnonno - Great-grandmother/-grandfather  
> Zia/Zio - Aunt/Uncle  
> Prozia/Prozio - great-aunt/-uncle
> 
> German familial terms  
> Uroma - great-grandma. Technically, Achille's generation should call her Ururgroßmutter, I believe. However, Ulrike pitied the little tykes, and allowed them to call her Uroma like their parents' generation.  
> *Ururgroßvater - great-great-grandfather. The reason why this term doesn't come up in Berenice and Achille's conversation is because Achille never met his great-great-grandfather, and Berenice was only ten when he died. So when they refer to him, they're saying 'great-great-grandfather' in Italian rather than German.  
> Onkel/Tante - uncle/aunt  
> Groß - great
> 
> French familial terms  
> Oncle/Tante - uncle/aunt  
> Grand-oncle - great uncle
> 
> COVID-19 - it occurred to me after I uploaded chapter 4 that there was no need to relocate Jean-Pierre Vernet's family to North America in order to explain why his parents were not able to visit him as soon as the other families. I'd forgotten that the story was set in 2020. Well, actually, I hadn't forgotten, but I'd forgotten that I was setting the story in today's pandemic. Nevertheless, COVID-19 is indeed in full swing in this story. 
> 
> Ebola - just like the current pandemic, I included the ebola outbreak from 2013 - 2016 in this story. Potter wiki doesn't say what kind of disease nundus spread, whether magical or muggle. We also don't know if magical maladies can only be caught by wizards/witches, and vice versa. I've decided it can be both.
> 
> Nundus - magical predators native to East Africa. They resemble leopards, or so potter wiki says. They're completely black in the picture, though? Their breath can be toxic, and can spread disease and kill full villages. To put them in perspective, they are far more terrifying than dragons.
> 
> Melusine - European female water spirit of mythology and folklore. Coincidentally (serendipitously?), I realized only while writing this chapter that several European houses claimed descent from Melusine, including the house of Luxembourg. Yes, the city is spelled -bourg, but the surname is -burg. I've standardized it all for both the house name and the surname.
> 
> Luxemburg - This house went extinct, I believe in the 15th c. The duchy was succeeded by a different house, and it remains a princely duchy today. My reasoning is that although the statute of secrecy only went into effect in the 17th c, because most European royalty and nobility adopted Christianity, some families separated into magical and non-magical branches. 
> 
> Courtenay - The French de Courtenays are extinct. There is still an extant House Courtenay in the UK today. Bertram de Courtenay and his ancestors are French. So the magical de Courtenays are in the opposite situation as the muggle de Courtenays, where the British line is extinct, and only the French remains. At the end of the war with Grindelwald and WWII, Marielle de Courtenay was the only living de Courtenay. 
> 
> March Lady - the title Marquis/Marquess (female form is Marchioness) or Margrave (German) derives from "march" or "mark." March lords were lords who went to fight on the border/frontier, and guarded it after. Yes, they marched with troops, and so they're called March lords or Marcher lords. Considering the Central Kingdom's royal family resides in the central region, and the Cardinal families reside in, well, the cardinal regions (N, S, E, W), I decided that their titles would be Marchioness. So there are at least 16 Marquessates in magical China.
> 
> True heir (received blessing from one of the Four Guardians) - I couldn't decide initially, if a true heir should rank lower or higher than Marchioness. Then I remembered that sometimes, true heirs are male, and not necessarily even from main branches of the family. They have a lot of duties that directly affect the safety of their region, though. Their family members also contribute to maintaining the safety of the region and the balance of seasons, but true heirs can do more as an individual than whole families if they properly nurture their talents. Their incredible rarity and their magical prowess pushed me to make them rank higher than their materfamilias. I think that Vega would be styled as a duchess in Britain, were she to be formally announced. Since true heirs are more important to the balance of nature than anyone else, they outrank everyone other than the king, even the crown prince.


	6. In which a Prophecy's contents begin to manifest and students are sorted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So school has started up again, and I'm taking entirely too many classes and languages. I've had this written for weeks, though. There was supposed to be another segment and POV of another student at the end, but I got stuck writing some of the more detailed parts of the Hogwarts curriculum and magical theory. I thought it best to simply edit what I have. For that reason, it's a shorter chapter, but not too short, I hope.
> 
> I realize I keep introducing new characters. I know it's confusing. I'm sorry. Again, this was a world-building and writing exercise for me, and I don't want to rely too heavily on already established relationships. Also, I almost made the mistake of including both Neville Longbottom and Pomona Sprout on the faculty list. I realized in time that Neville took over the post of Herbology professor, so it wouldn't make sense for Sprout to remain. Well. Maybe? I'm currently trying to figure out class schedules for all the professors and years, and it seems like a heavy load for the core subject professors. But ... ultimately, I've decided that if I need to, I can always add teaching assistants to the staff if necessary. So, Sprout is for sure retired, and Neville is on the staff. So I had to create an OC to take over as Hufflepuff Head of House.  
> Additionally, just FYI, in my headcanon, McGonagall shouldn't be old enough to have taught during Newt Scamander's Hogwarts years--that smacks of film fan service, really. I believe she was actually very young when she first started teaching. I think I read somewhere that she worked for ~2 years at the Ministry before starting her teaching career. If you factor in a Mastery in Transfiguration, then she was probably only about 22-23 years old when she started teaching. So 1995 - 39 years (what she told Umbridge) = 1956. Ergo, she was probably born around between 1923 - 1926. She's actually very close in age to Tom Riddle! Anyway. I haven't read Cursed Child, nor watched it, nor do I ever intend to based on what I've heard of it. So McGonagall is still Headmistress, and Sprout is retired. That's what I've decided.

_ Fidelma Fitzsimmons, Head of Hufflepuff House _

When she was a young child, Fidelma was skeptical of prophecy and the inner eye. Her father, descended from a long line of seers, was absolutely aghast that his child disbelieved in their heritage. Her mother was much more practical about it. She shrugged and said that understanding human nature would facilitate prescience far better than the occasional prophecy. 

Fidelma took her mother’s words to heart. She couldn’t believe vague words that may or may not happen, but she could believe in humans and their habits. And so Fidelma took to observing people. Human body language, speaking cadence, and facial expressions were fascinatingly complex. From there, she decided she wanted also to study the body language of animals. 

She watched birds with her mother’s old spyglass. She helped her mother take care of half feral kneazles, cats, krups, and dogs. She set little traps for the garden gnomes, and caught and released them in meadows distant from her home. 

She decided she would try to study magical beings, too. She’d heard from some of the older children around the valley that a centaur herd lived in the woods. So she packed herself a basket full of food, and went into the woods.

Naturally, she got turned around more than a few times. Instead of sitting and waiting to be found by scared and angry parents, she decided she’d find her way home and slip back into the house. 

The centaurs found her. A small group of them found her resting on a tree root, munching on an apple. She set her half-eaten apple down, stood, dusted off her clothes, and greeted them with a bow and a “How do you do?”

The centaurs were very polite, and returned her greetings. One of them asked what she was doing in the woods.

“Eating my apple, Ma’am,” Fidelma said.

The centaur, whose name was Fiadh, had looked at Fidelma’s basket, her dusty clothes, and finally Fidelma’s face, then said, “I see. Do you like this spot?”

Fidelma had nodded and said, “Yes. It’s quiet, there aren’t that many bugs because of the nearby mint plants, and I can see the stars.” She paused, then asked, “Would you and your party like to share this picnic with me?”

Fiadh’s face remained impassive when Fidelma offered to share her food, but Fidelma had seen the strange look that flashed across the face of the male centaur standing behind Fiadh.

“Thank you, little stargazer, but I think you must return to your abode,” Fiadh said.

Fidelma cocked her head. “I would, but I’ve misplaced myself,” she answered.

“What an interesting turn of phrase,” the male centaur said. “We are all exactly where we are meant to be right now.”

“Even me?” Fidelma asked.

“Especially you, little stargazer,” Fiadh said.

“I don’t understand,” Fidelma said. “Am I meant to be lost in the woods?”

“You must believe in something in order to find it, little stargazer,” Fiadh said.

“You’re not talking about my home, are you?” Fidelma asked.

“No,” the male centaur said. “You misplaced yourself, did you not?”

Fidelma nodded slowly. “I believe I am real, though. I know I am in the woods, speaking to you,” she said.

“You think you believe in yourself, but you don’t see,” Fiadh said.

Fidelma’s face had scrunched up in confusion.

“Nevermind, little stargazer,” a third centaur said. She approached Fidelma and offered a hand. “Come, we will help show you the way.”

Fidelma picked up her basket, and took the centaur’s hand with her free hand. The three centaurs walked her to the edge of the wood. By then, the moon had risen high in the sky.

“This is where we part, little stargazer,” the centaur said, letting go of Fidelma’s hand. 

Fidelma thanked them, offered them food from her basket once more--which they rejected once more--then finally walked the short distance home.

Before she reached the door, it opened and her father raced out.

“Fidelma!” he cried, and enveloped Fidelma in his arms. She dropped her basket and returned her father’s hug.

Her father pulled back. He looked carefully at her face, then checked the rest of her for injuries. 

Fidelma’s mother came out in the meantime and sidled up to her husband and daughter. She reached out to caress Fidelma’s face. “How are you, darling?”

Fidelma smiled at her mother. “I met centaurs,” she said.

Her mother nodded. “Did you learn anything?” she asked, ignoring her husband’s disapproving face. He scooped Fidelma up in his arms, and headed into the house.

Fidelma cried out gleefully. “Daddy, I was still speaking with Mammy!”

Her father set her down on the couch. He wrapped a blanket around her, almost swaddling her, and then pressed a warm mug of cocoa into her hands. “You need to rest. You and Mammy can talk tomorrow. You can tell us where you went and what happened.”

So Fidelma drank her cocoa, brushed her teeth, and went to bed.

The next day, she did not wake until the sun was almost at its zenith. When she finally woke, her mother and father asked her what happened over lunch.

She told them. Her mother asked her about her observations of centaur behavior and body language. Her father focused more on the odd conversation between the centaurs and Fidelma. Fidelma shrugged. Body language was more illuminating than speech, oftentimes. The centaurs had been friendly, and not at all nervous or annoyed that she was in their forest. So she put their conversation out of mind. 

A week later, Fidelma was taking a gnome to release, when she felt the strangest sensation.

It was like she was underwater, trying to wake from a dream, but unable to despite hearing her parents call her name. She was still aware of what was happening in the meadow, but it was … fuzzy. She heard the gnome cursing at her for dropping the trap he was in. She had the impression of a bird flying past. She felt her mouth open involuntarily and heard herself speak.

Then everything went black.

When Fidelma awoke, she was sweaty, tired, and confused. She looked at the gnome and asked him, “What happened?”

The gnome looked at her solemnly with its beady black eyes. “Weathercaster,” it said.

Fidelma pointed at the sky. “Only the sun is out,” she said.

The gnome pointed at her, stomped its feet, and cried, “Storyteller! Weathercaster! Birdwatcher!”

Fidelma sighed. She took the gnome the rest of the way to the meadow, opened the trap, and set it on the ground.

The gnome refused to budge.

Fidelma took a piece of licorice root out of her pocket and waved it enticingly. The gnome looked at it greedily, but stayed in the trap.

Fidelma tried everything. She even turned the trap on its side, but the gnome gripped the inside of the trap, and screeched. 

She sighed. She looked at the little creature seriously. “I’m going to take you home, but you mustn’t take to ruining our vegetable or flower patch again, all right?”

The gnome nodded, grumbling a little. Fidelma cautiously stuck the licorice root into the trap. The gnome grabbed it quickly. It stayed in the trap, gnawing voraciously at the licorice root, glancing up at Fidelma now and then.

Fidelma picked the trap up and went home.

The gnome Fidelma brought back home insisted on following Fidelma wherever it could. Her parents wouldn’t stand for it in the house, and when he did sneak in, their kneazle-cat Sorrel would chase him around until he escaped the house. Fidelma took to calling him Bobby. 

Eventually, her mother caught Bobby and questioned him. Then Fidelma’s mother questioned Fidelma herself. And then Fidelma’s father also got involved. He stopped allowing her to leave home without him by her side, which grated on both their nerves, but he insisted. Father and daughter were usually quite grumpy by dinnertime when Fidelma’s mother returned.

It all came to a head when Fidelma had a fuzzy episode in the middle of the night. She woke up thirsty and went downstairs to fetch a glass of water. 

When the fuzzy episode started, she dropped the pitcher, and it smashed to pieces on the kitchen tiles. Her parents came running and caught the last of the episode.

When Fidelma woke up, her father and mother were sitting by her bedside. Bobby was sat on a little cushion by her side, holding one of her fingers.

She slowly looked at each of them. “Why is Bobby here?” she asked.

“Fidelma, dear,” her mother said, looking a bit lost. “Do you know what happens during one of your fuzzy episodes?”

“Of course, Mammy,” she said.

Her parents gaped at her. It wasn’t such a strange reaction from her father, but her mother was quite a confident and poised woman. She could stay cool as a cucumber while helping Abraxans with foals in breech presentation. She ate spicy food without tearing up. And she never yelped when Sorrel kneaded his paws on her leg.

Fidelma giggled at her parents. 

“Can you tell us what happened last night?” her mother finally asked.

“I went to get a glass of water. Then everything went fuzzy. I talked, but I don’t know what about, and then you two came running into the kitchen because I broke the pitcher,” Fidelma said.

“Fidelma,” her father said, taking her free hand. “We figured out why Bobby calls you ‘Weathercaster.’”

Fidelma glanced at Bobby. The little creature was nodding and squeezing her finger. “Why?” she asked.

“You’re a seer, Fidelma,” her father said.

Fidelma scrunched up her face and thought. She remembered what the centaurs had said.

“What did I say last night?” she asked.

“You said that ‘the blue bird wields a wand which took her voice, but does not speak for her. The blue bird will arrive in a group of nine, but the group shall not remain nine.’ We didn’t hear the first part,” her father said.

Fidelma nodded at her parents. “All right,” she said. 

The next day, she took another basket into the woods, and confronted the first centaur she saw, who just happened to be Fiadh. Fiadh smiled and called her ‘little Stargazer’ again. Fidelma hadn’t been lost this time. After a long winding talk about stars, the sun, and the movements of the moon, Fidelma went home. Her father looked at her dust-stained clothes, her basket, and asked if the centaurs had been nice. She informed him that Fiadh had agreed to tutor her in astronomy and told her that only Fidelma herself could decide whether the fuzzy episodes stayed fuzzy or became clear.

* * *

Presently, Fidelma was in the hospital wing, alongside Minerva, Filius, Aurora, and Neville. Apparently, the nine students from Beauxbatons had decided that they would continue their schooling here at Hogwarts. Fidelma thought back on the day her parents had allowed Bobby into the house. She had given more prophecies since, but she had only become properly lucid and aware of prophecies she spoke in her last year attending Hogwarts. This was the first time one of her prophecies that she knew of manifested before her.

In fact, when Minerva had gathered the faculty in the meeting room and explained Vega Lang’s transportation magic and the unique characteristic of her wand, Fidelma had nearly fallen out of her chair. 

Not all prophecies came true, but this one certainly was. Fidelma wondered about the first half of the prophecy as she watched Filius set the Sorting Hat down on a chair. It hummed and looked about the hospital wing.

“Well. It seems I shall have many more minds with which to deduce. I shan’t have to wait until September next again!” it declared. Then it burst into song. 

The younger students looked at the hat curiously, while most of the older students listened attentively. One student--the only one still convalescing, and the one Fidelma suspected to be Vega Lang--stared at the wall, and a boy with dark curly hair kept an eye on the girl while warily regarding the professors.

Finally, the song ended. Filius called the first student up. “Dufort,  Étienne.” A teenage boy, probably about thirteen or fourteen walked up to the stool. He bent forward so Filius could set the Sorting Hat on his head. 

While the Sorting Hat looked through Étienne’s head, Fidelma wondered if sorting older students would take longer than the average first year. She wondered also if the shock resulting from the attack on their old school would affect their sorting.

“Slytherin,” the Sorting Hat said. Étienne took the hat off, set it down on the stool, and went back to his seat.

“Lavalle, Pierre,” Filius said.

The Sorting Hat only sat on Pierre’s head for a minute before calling, “Hufflepuff!”

Élodie Leblanc sorted even quicker, also into Hufflepuff.

Filius brought the hat to Vega Lang when it was her turn. She and the Hat seemed to negotiate about something. Fidelma could see the Hat’s mouth moving, but Vega must have been engaging with it only in her mind. The Hat finally called “Ravenclaw.”

Fidelma wondered if the hat had a sense of humor. Of course, if Vega could work out a transportation ritual that didn’t rely on quite the same principles as a portkey while injured and trying not to die, she was certainly smart enough to be a Ravenclaw.

Little Marielle Manet sorted into Ravenclaw, too. Nicolas Martel sorted into Gryffindor. Giorgio Passerini argued with the Hat for a minute or two, mouthing silently at it, before sorting into Slytherin. Alba Pereira Santos also went into Slytherin. Jean-Pierre Vernet sorted into Gryffindor.

Altogether, the sorting had taken on average two minutes and twenty-three seconds. The sample size was small, but Fidelma judged that it was still longer than the average first year. She was sure more Beauxbatons students would transfer in once the French Ministry reopened its borders. She would ask Minerva if she could watch those, her teaching schedule willing.

Filius took the Sorting Hat back and Minerva gave the students a short speech about Hogwarts expectations and rules. She introduced Fidelma and the other heads of houses, explaining to the new students that their heads of houses were their guardians by proxy here at school. Should they need anything resolved by a responsible adult, not to hesitate approaching any of them or herself. Minerva apologized that she and Filius had to leave for a meeting, but offered Fidelma’s services as a guide for a tour around the school grounds. 

Fidelma looked inquiringly at Neville and Aurora. The astronomy professor glanced out the window, then looked apologetically at Fidelma and Neville. Aurora explained that she had to go prepare for a class.

“Well, shall we go for a tour?” Neville asked cheerfully.

Fidelma saw the furtive glances at Vega. She turned to ask Poppy, “Is Miss Lang well enough to join us, so long as she doesn’t tax herself unduly?”

Poppy grumbled but summoned a wheelchair. “I expect her back in the same condition, Fidelma.”

Fidelma smiled at the matron. “Worry not, Poppy. We will bring her back in better condition, I’m sure, after she gets some fresh air.”

Poppy and one of the older girls--Élodie, Fidelma recalled--helped Vega into the chair. The older girl draped a soft wool shawl around Vega’s shoulders, and tucked a blanket over her legs with practiced efficiency. Then they were off. 

The wheelchair was a clever contraption a muggle-born witch had designed. Once keyed into the wards of a place, it could roll about the place all by itself. When it encountered stairs, it would attach itself by the back to the banister, and zip up or down to the next level. Fidelma thought muggles very imaginative to think of something like that.

Fidelma and Neville showed the students how to get to the Great Hall, though that was really more for Vega’s benefit since the others had come from dinner to get sorted. Vega nodded absently, and so they continued the tour.

They went to the library next, where Pierre and Élodie asked about the restricted section. 

“Why is it restricted?” Pierre asked.

Neville frowned, but answered the young man. “Certain books are too dangerous for younger students. However, if you wish to do advanced research or extracurricular projects, come find either one of us, or the professor whose subject you’re studying, and ask for approval for a pass. Older students have that privilege.”

Élodie and Pierre looked at each other, then at the door of the restricted section, then back to Neville and Fidelma. They nodded in sync.

Off they went. They showed the classrooms on the lower floors first. Ancient Runes, Muggle Studies, History of Magic, Defense, Transfiguration. They headed outside next. The older students showed the younger ones how to summon magical fire or cast lumos. Fidelma and Neville conjured lanterns for the ones who couldn’t. Fidelma saw Giorgio cast a warming spell on Vega out of the corner of her eye.

They arrived at the Herbology greenhouses. Neville explained that during the day, he could be found here, but after certain hours, he was usually in his office inside the castle.

Carefully, they walked over to the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Fidelma pointed out the gamekeeper’s cottage. “That’s where Artemis Flint, the gamekeeper, and his wife Dierdre Flint, the potions professor live,” she explained. “If you need help with potions ingredients gathering, either one of them can help you if Professor Longbottom’s greenhouses don’t have what you need.” 

“The Forbidden Forest may have a daunting name, and normally entrance is indeed forbidden, but in actuality, you may ask for supervised visits,” Neville added. “Either of the Flints, myself, Professor Fitzsimmons, Professor Grubbly-Plank, who teaches Care of Magical Creatures, or Professor Evensen, who teaches defense, would be willing to supervise.”

“Professor Grubbly-Plank usually holds her lessons over there,” Fidelma said, pointing towards some stables and pens.

“Do you have qualifications in herbology or magical creature care, Professor Fitzsimmons?” little Alba asked.

“In a roundabout way, Miss Pereira Santos. Some diviners, such as myself, use plants to help us see clearer. I am also the daughter of a Master potioneer and a veterinarian, besides being well-versed in centaur and unicorn etiquette.”

They led the students back indoors and headed down to the dungeons.

Pierre said, “You must have been a very industrious student, both formally and informally, Professor, if you are trusted to supervise visits into the forest.”

Neville tried to hold back a snort. He wasn’t quite successful. The younger students looked at him with slight confusion, and the older ones raised their brows or smiled.

“Don’t let Professor Fitzsimmons’s humility take you in,” Neville said,”She completed her Mastery in Magical Creature Care. The only reason she doesn’t work in the field as a professional is because of the dizzy spells she gets when she delivers a prophecy.”

Jean-Pierre looked adorably confused. “Why not say so to begin with, Professor Fitzsimmons?”

Fidelma smiled. “You will find, Mr. Vernet, that of the three disciplines of soothsaying, divination has the most skeptics. Sometimes, when people learn that I have mastery of another discipline, they become more confrontational than if they merely knew I was a seer.”

Jean-Pierre still looked confused. 

Giorgio took pity on him. “It’s like this, Jean-Pierre. If someone is skeptical of divination, and they meet a diviner, they’ll likely be confrontational when it comes to that person’s vocation. If they learn that person has other avenues of employment, they might wonder why that person chose to make a living as a soothsayer rather than what the skeptic believes to be a more respectable means of living.”

“Oh! I see,” Jean-Pierre said. “Is this … a bias that is more prevalent in the British Isles?”

“It depends on where you are in the isles, Mr. Vernet. Generally, the English are more skeptical, and sometimes, those who are muggle-raised, or simply are not well-versed in magical culture,” Fidelma answered.

They reached the subterranean levels.

Little Marielle took little Alba’s hand. “Professor Fitzsimmons, what is Unicorn etiquette?” the French girl asked.

“Perhaps etiquette is not the right word,” Fidelma responded. “However, who are we to determine whether or not other species have their own culture, and therefore etiquette? They certainly have set behaviors and rules which they obey when they engage with each other or other species.”

“You have quite the background for a divination professor,” Nicolas remarked.

“What do you think most divination professors learn or do in their formative years, Mr. Martel?” Fidelma quipped.

Nicolas looked as if he was counting tiles while thinking. “I’m not sure, Professor. I suppose I thought they only learned the methods of soothsaying,” he said.

Fidelma laughed. “Mr. Martel, if you must know, I didn’t put much stock in soothsaying until I’d given more than a few prophecies. I certainly had other hobbies and activities as a child before my gift showed itself, and I learned to see,” she said.

They arrived at the potions classroom. Neville explained that there were brewing labs for students to use. Fourth years and above had set labs and could use them freely. Third years and below needed to have supervision from Professor Flint.

They went up. The students were shown the classrooms for Charms, Arithmancy, and Magical Culture. Then the Divination tower and the Astronomy tower.

“Which of you are taking herbology, and which of you are taking divination?” Neville asked conversationally.

All of them were taking herbology, which pleased Neville. Only Nicolas and Jean-Pierre were taking divination, but little Alba said she might take it when she was older. Fidelma smiled and told her she could come to her classroom regardless, to talk if she was interested. 

At this point, the tour was mostly complete. Neville and Fidelma split the children between them. Neville took the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws, and Fidelma took the Slytherins and Hufflepuffs. They would show the students where their heads of house quartered in case of emergency, and their houses. Neville would take Vega back to the hospital wing after he dropped off the other students at their dormitories.

Fidelma dropped the Slytherins off first. Pierre and Élodie could be trusted to wait a short distance from the entrance of Slytherin house while Fidelma introduced Alba, Étienne, and Giorgio to their housemates. The seventh years were in astronomy with Aurora, so the sixth year prefects, Caroline Bennington and Geoffrey Wensleydale took the students under their wings. 

One of the older Slytherins joined the small group and greeted Giorgio. 

“Oh, do you already know each other, Mr. Passerini, Miss … ?” Fidelma asked.

“Allegra Zabini, Professor,” the pretty girl said.

“I’m good friends with Miss Zabini’s cousin Vega, Professor Fitzsimmons,” Giorgio said.

“Well, I’m glad you already know someone,” Fidelma said. She looked at Caroline and Geoffrey, “Take good care of the new students. If there’s anything they need, you may come to me if Professor Sinistra is still in the astronomy tower.”

“We will, Professor. Thank you,” Geoffrey said.

With that, Fidelma exited the Slytherin common room and returned to Élodie and Pierre. She led them down several corridors and past the kitchen. She pointed out the portrait of Giuseppe Arcimboldo and explained that it was the entrance of her private quarters. Then she took a right turn and arrived before the Hufflepuff entrance.

She could see confusion on both students’ faces. They were in what looked like a storage area for barrels.

“Unlike the other houses,” Fidelma said, “Hufflepuff does not use a spoken password.”

Fidelma gestured to the barrels. “You must tap this barrel in the rhythm of ‘Helga Hufflepuff.’” She tapped the barrels. The lid swung open to reveal the entranceway. She walked in, and they followed.

“You must be careful, however. If you tap the wrong barrel, you will find yourself smelling of vinegar for days afterwards,” she cautioned. 

Two sixth year students approached. “Since the seventh years are in Astronomy, I will leave the two of you to my sixth year prefects.” Fidelma turned to the prefects. “Miss Atwater, Mr. Weasley, I will entrust the new students to you. If you have need of me, I will be in my quarters,” she said.

Wendy Atwater and Louis Weasley assured her they would be fine, and Fidelma left.

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the sorting and year levels are as follows:
> 
> Seventh Year: Pierre Lavalle (H), Élodie Leblanc (H)  
> Fifth Year: Vega Lang (R), Giorgio Passerini (S)  
> Fourth Year: Jean-Pierre Vernet (G)  
> Third Year: Nicolas Martel (G), Étienne Dufort (S)  
> First Year: Marielle Manet (R), Alba Pereira Santos (S)
> 
> Character Introductions:  
> Alba Pereira Santos: Portuguese. 11 years old. Pureblood. She and Marielle only just met each other, but they've bonded over the course of the past two weeks. (I think it's been about two weeks?) Alba is a very quiet child. I think that had they remained at Beauxbatons, she and Marielle may not have become friends so quickly, nor would they become best friends--which they're fast becoming at Hogwarts.  
> Nicolas Martel: French. He turned 14 years old in the hospital wing. Halfblood. He and Étienne Dufort were best friends prior to arriving at Hogwarts. I tagged this story with "interhouse friendships," and I meant it. I was especially interested in writing friendships that were already developed before sorting. I haven't decided what the interhouse cooperation and relationships are like post-Voldemort. I need to be careful so it doesn't become sunshine and rainbows, or as bad as Harry-Draco made it seem in canon, or even Severus-Lily angst. --> Anyway. Nicolas is from a Very Old Family. The Duforts are nobility as well, but weren't enfeoffed until the Middle Ages. As such, the Martels aren't as concerned with blood purity, since they have Roman roots, and don't feel a need to prove their reputation.


	7. In which two Ravenclaw prefects make Vega's acquaintance and Allegra asks what everyone wants to know

_ A few days later _

_ Hogwarts Hospital Wing _

_ Molly Weasley (II) _

Molly gave Alexander a look of consternation. Alexander raised his brows, but his expression remained impassive. They had both met the new Ravenclaws, Marielle Manet and Vega Lang last week. Professor Longbottom had explained that Vega Lang needed to stay in the hospital wing a bit longer before taking her with him.

Molly and Alexander had later been tasked by Professor Flitwick to help Vega catch up with coursework. Molly was pleased to learn another girl was joining her year. There were eighteen girls sorted into Ravenclaw in Molly’s year, Molly herself included. Their dorms had five beds each, and Molly had ended up in a dorm with only two other girls. At the time, Molly had said that they could ask the other two rooms if one of the girls wanted to join their dorm instead, so the numbers were more even, but Sabrina Davies had hushed her, saying that the less girls, the less mess, fights, and morning alarms they would have to deal with.

So Molly had hushed. Later, Molly wished she hadn’t. Sabrina and Willia Sawyer, her other dorm mate, argued a lot. They claimed they were having academic debates, but Molly didn’t see what the color of robes had to do with scholarship. Worse, Sabrina and Willia often asked Molly who she agreed with. She disliked being the arbitrator. A fourth girl would even the numbers, or better yet, if Vega felt the same as Molly, Molly would have a friend with whom she could actively ignore Sabrina and Willia’s arguments.

Right now, Molly and Alexander were waiting for Vega to finish eating breakfast. It was Saturday, so they didn’t have classes to hurry to, but Vega was a slow eater. If she ever became familiar enough to invite the girl over to Grandma Molly’s for Sunday family dinner, the girl would starve. There were a lot of Weasleys, and they all knew it was a rush to fill one’s plate. Although, considering how skinny she was, maybe Grandma Molly would try to feed her to death? Grandma Molly had never stopped trying to feed Uncle Harry after all.

Finally, Vega set her utensils down. Madam Pomfrey came over to look at the tray. She sighed and took it away. She turned to Molly and Alexander. “If she starts to tire, then she’s done for the day, all right?”

“Of course, Madam Pomfrey,” Alexander said. Madam Pomfrey went back into her office. Alexander turned to face Vega. “It’s a pleasure to see you again, Miss Lang.”

Molly gave him the side-eye. Why was he being so formal? Molly was forced to follow his example. “Yes, I hope you’re doing better, Miss Lang,” she said.

Vega removed her wand from her sleeve and gently tilted it up. Molly watched closely. She’d seen the flaming writing last week, but she still couldn’t figure out what charms Vega was using since it was non-verbal. 

_ It’s good to see both of you again. Thank you for patiently waiting for me to finish my meal. _

“Oh, it’s no problem at all, Miss Lang,” Alexander said. 

Vega solved the source of Molly’s annoyance.  _ You needn’t be so formal, Mr. Nott. We are in the same year, are we not? Since it seems like I shall need to rely on you and Miss Weasley for guidance this year, you may both call me Vega. _

“All right Vega. I thank you for the privilege. You may call me Alexander,” Alexander drawled. Molly almost hit him.

“Please call me Molly,” she said. “I’m glad we’re dispensing with the formalities. If you insisted on calling me Miss Weasley, you’d soon realize there is more than one of us!”

Vega smiled at Molly, cheeks dimpling.  _ Then I’m glad you’ve given me leave to call you Molly. Onto pertinent matters, then. Professor Flitwick has already brought me the syllabi for my classes. Shall we compare which classes we share? _ She waved her wand toward the trunk at the end of her bed. The lid opened and rolls of parchment floated over to her.

“Well, since we are fifth years, we must continue taking all of the core classes. Additionally, because Alexander and I are both magic-raised, we have to take two blocks of Muggle Studies, and one block of Magical Culture every week. As for electives, Alexander is taking Ancient Runes and Arithmancy, and I’m taking Arithmancy and Divination,” Molly said.

_ I’d heard about the British Ministry pushing for different schooling requirements after the Battle of Hogwarts. When were Muggle Studies and Magical Culture made mandatory for students? _

“Ten years ago,” Alexander answered. “At first, lobbyists pushed for only magic-raised students to take Muggle Studies, but many old families argued that the cultural misunderstandings run both ways. So they compromised, and now everyone takes both. Depending on how you were raised, you take more of one class or the other.”

_ I see. _ Vega lifted the pitcher on her bedside table.  _ Would either of you like some water? _

Molly and Alexander both demurred.

Vega poured a glass for herself.  _ I will be taking two blocks of Muggle Studies, one block of Magical Culture, Ancient Runes, and Arithmancy. _

“All right, then. Which subject would you like to start with?” Molly asked.

They went over the core subjects first. Alexander gave Vega suggestions for readings on British magical history and the workings of the Wizengamot. Molly lent Vega a few potions magazines she thought were useful. 

Vega seemed to be a diligent student, if a bit dreamy. Molly noticed that sometimes she seemed to lose focus and stare blankly, but when she realized she’d been addressed or asked a question, she was able to answer quickly and cogently.

They were able to cover the core course syllabi fairly quickly. Vega didn’t ask many questions, other than the occasional reading suggestion, or clarification on work she had missed. 

When they got to Ancient Runes, Alexander started jiggling one of his knees. Molly gave him a look before he realized and stopped. 

“Vega, I heard from your little admirer that you were the one who constructed the transportation ritual. Can you tell me what kind of runes you used?” Alexander asked, eyes glittering with excitement.

_ My little admirer?  _ Vega huffed, eyes crinkling. Molly realized she was laughing.

“Yes, little Marielle Manet,” Alexander supplied. “Nicolay wouldn’t answer my questions when I asked him what he’d seen when he stayed back in the Great Hall that night. He said that if I wanted to know, I should ask you.”

Vega tilted her head to one side.  _ I don’t know why Auguste thought that was private information. It isn’t as if people didn’t see after we arrived. _

“I think he was protecting you, his friend,” Molly said.

Vega shook her head slowly.  _ If he’d wanted to ‘protect me,’ he would have simply told you when you asked so I wouldn’t have to bother. _

“Are we being a bother?” Molly asked solicitously.

_ No. _ Vega shook her head a bit faster this time.  _ What I mean is if he knew, he could have saved me the trouble of explaining.  _

“Perhaps he didn’t know, then?” Alexander offered.

Vega lifted one shoulder up. She sipped on her water before lifting her wand.  _ I used Gothic, medieval French, and Jiaguwen. _

“Wow. Jiaguwen! Did you learn it at Beauxbatons or at home?” Molly asked.

_ At home. However, our Runes professor has been learning it herself so she can grade my projects without injuring herself. _

“What about arithmancy?” Alexander asked. “ I only caught a glimpse of markings, but I saw the double infinity and some polygons which intersected with … ”

Molly zoned out for a spell. She didn’t take Ancient Runes, and other than a rudimentary understanding of the provenance of certain languages, most of it went over her head. After mastering the monster that was Classical Latin, and then realizing many spells were actually derived from Medieval Latin, she had metaphorically thrown her arms up and washed her hands of learning more spell-crafting languages. 

Molly thought about her schedule for this coming week, and whether she would have time to go to Hogsmeade Saturday next. Both her parents had stressed that she should try her best to leave the school grounds whenever she had a chance. OWLs revision was no reason for constantly holing herself up in the dormitory or library and missing out on healthy human interaction and sunshine. Or so her mother had explained. Her father had nodded, and muttered something about doing as he said, not as he himself had as a youth. She was at boarding school, after all. Missing home was part and parcel, and as such, she should take advantage of her situation and make as many connections with other people her age while she was in a conducive environment for it. Molly wondered if Lucy wanted anything, and made a note to ask her during lunch. She’d ask Hugo, too, and pass it onto Rose, just in case her cousin forgot to ask her own brother what he would like purchased, though Molly highly doubted she would.

“Molly, do you want to go over Professor Vector’s syllabus with Vega? I need to step out for a few minutes,” Alexander said, startling Molly out of her thoughts, and nearly out of her seat.

“No, of course not!” said Molly, righting herself. She frowned. “Where are you going?”

Alexander smiled at her with teeth. “To powder my nose, of course. Or did you want to come, too?”

Molly turned her nose up at his sarcasm. “My nose doesn’t need powder, thank you very much. You go ahead. I’ll catch Vega up while you primp and prep,” she said.

Alexander laughed and swept out of the infirmary. Molly watched him go. She turned back to face Vega, who was looking at her expectantly.

“Right,” Molly said, picking up her own copy of the syllabus. “Professor Vector is a good teacher, but rather old fashioned in her educational methods. She expects us to read ahead, and class is for questions. There are two projects and final exams for her class each year. That’s all that counts towards our grades. She doesn’t care if you don’t attend class or if you choose to attend and nap so long as you know the material and pass. What that also means is that if you don’t understand the material, she expects you to approach her. She won’t ask after us.”

Vega nodded. 

Molly continued. “The first project is individually completed. After that, we draw lots for partners and work in pairs. At the end of the year, we take our exams -- since we have OWLs this year -- that’s Ordinary Wizarding Levels, we won’t write an exam for her. Have you given any thought yet as to what you’d like to work on for your individual project?”

Vega flicked her wand.  _ Yes. I want to chart the correlation between natural disasters, changing weather patterns, and particular man-made tragedies. _

“Oh,” Molly said. “That’s … incredibly ambitious. What kind of man-made tragedies?”

_ The kind that are exacerbated by natural forces, or vice versa. I haven’t decided if I will be calculating based on which variable is the determining factor.  _

Molly nodded with interest. “Yes, it’s rather a chicken or the egg scenario, isn’t it? What are your other parameters? Geographically? Demographically?”

_ I’ll probably work on the nundu sightings in West Africa.  _ Vega turned toward the door as she flicked her wand, tilting it a fraction higher after her words appeared.

Molly looked to the door as well, wondering what Vega had heard or seen. The doorknob turned just as Molly was about to ask, and Alexander stepped through.

Molly saw him stiffen slightly as he noticed both of them watching him. The unease disappeared almost as quickly. 

“Was I that loud? Or were you regretful you didn’t come along to powder your nose, Molly?” Alexander asked.

Molly resisted rolling her eyes. She chose not to respond to his jibe. “Vega was just telling me about her individual project. She’s planning to chart the nundu sightings in West Africa, and its correlation to man-made tragedies. I was just about to ask her what those tragedies were when you returned.”

Alexander took up his chair. “Nundu sightings. Yes, those caused quite a lot of panic. Are you going to look at the hysteria it caused, the ICW’s belated reactive measures, or the muggle response?” he asked.

_ Probably all of the above. It wouldn’t be an advanced student project if I didn’t look at both magical and muggle reactions to what seems like an unexplainable phenomenon to both sides. _

“True,” Alexander said. He consulted his watch. “I can only hope all the other students who join this year will be as bright as you, Vega. We barely spent an hour and a half.”

Vega didn’t visibly react to Alexander’s statement so Molly chimed in. “Do you engage private tutors during your summer breaks?”

Vega shook her head.  _ No, but I do read ahead during the summers. _

“Well, if you have any other questions, do feel free to ask either of us. In fact, you and I will be rooming together,” Molly said, smiling.

Vega shook her head.  _ I don’t have any more questions. _

“All right. Then Alexander and I will get going. I’ve club, and he has a date with his little sister,” Molly said. She started gathering her belongings.

“Speaking of clubs, are you interested at all in joining any, Vega? I believe the Head Girl compiled a list of all the school clubs. We can bring a copy of it to you, if you like,” Alexander said. He stood up, ready to leave.

_ If it’s not too much trouble, I would appreciate a list of school clubs. Thank you. Also, _ She opened the drawer in her night side table, and brought out a tin.  _ these are mooncakes. They’re eaten during the mid-Autumn festival, which was actually last week. They’re excellent with a hot cup of tea. Please take these to share with your friends. _

“Moon cakes! I don’t suppose mid-Autumn festival is a night for moon-viewing?” Molly asked with a grin.

Vega nodded. 

Alexander stepped forward to take the tin. “Thank you, Vega.”

“These must have been difficult to wrangle. Thank you so much for sharing them with us,” Molly said.

_ You’re welcome. _

“Well. Hopefully we’ll see you soon. Professor Flitwick said he’d come by probably Tuesday or Wednesday to collect your homework. If you need anything in the meantime, you can ask Madam Pomfrey to send a message to one of us or the professor himself,” Alexander said. He shouldered his bag and tucked the tin under one arm. He held his other arm out to Molly.

“Good-bye, Vega. Let me know if you want help moving into the tower,” Molly said. She tucked her hand in the crook of his arm.

_ I will.  _ Vega waved good-bye.

  
  


On their way back to the tower, Molly remarked, “I’m impressed she was able to find a supplier of foreign pastry while cooped up in the hospital wing, and in a different country.”

Alexander said, “She has two overprotective cousins and an overprotective childhood friend. Based on how harried Nicolay has looked these last two weeks, I expect all three of them are doing everything in their power to ensure Vega is settling in comfortably -- as much as she can after such a traumatic event, anyway.”

They turned down a corridor, Alexander guiding Molly along a different path than the one she would normally take. 

“Are we still going to the tower?” she asked.

“No,” Alexander said, “you have club, do you not?”

“Yes, but I’d prefer to drop my bag off first,” she responded.

“I’ll take it back with me, if you want,” he said. 

Molly looked at him dubiously. “What’s in it for you? In fact, why have you been so pleasant since the start of the year?”

Alexander mock gasped. “How you wrong me, Molly dearest! I have been nothing but kind to you since we met on the train five years ago!” He led her through a series of changing staircases.

Molly gave him a steely-eyed stare. “I’ll figure out whatever it is you’re up to,” she said.

Alexander merely smiled, eyes twinkling merrily.

  
  


\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

_ Later the same day _

_ Allegra Zabini _

“Hello Vega! How are you finding the school work?” Allegra asked. She set a box down on Vega’s side table before bending down to exchange il bacio.

Vega shrugged.  _ Reading English textbooks is different, but not as difficult as I had feared. We shall see how my writing fares. I may have to take up Headmistress McGonagall’s offer of writing my homework in Latin, instead. What’s in the box? _

Allegra smiled. “Oh, this? Bisnonno sent you a box of pastries. They’re a mixed selection from Eastern Europe and Turkey. I reminded him you love poppyseed and pistachio. Here,” Allegra opened it and proffered it before Vega. “Try some. I brought tea, as well.” 

Vega set her quill and essay aside. She took a slice of nut roll, conjuring a napkin to rest it on.

Allegra set the box down and pulled a thermos out of her bag. She poured for Vega first, setting the teacup down on Vega’s lapdesk.

Vega sniffed appreciatively, before looking up at Allegra, who laughed and pulled a tin of rock sugar from her pocket. 

“Here. I know how you like your peach blossom tea.”

After they ate their fill of delicious pastries, conversing all the while -- Allegra talked, and Vega nodded or shook her head, occasionally picking up her wand to communicate -- Allegra pulled out a stack of catalogues. “We need to order more essentials for you. You’re lucky you sorted into Ravenclaw -- I understand that between all the sixth and seventh years in your house, the Head Boy was able to gather spares of all your books for the year. They’ll have notes from all the best students, too.”

Vega looked dubiously at the stack of books at the foot of her bed.

Allegra sighed. “All right. If not the best students, the ones who know how to think?”

Vega continued to regard her borrowed books skeptically.

Allegra rolled her eyes. “Never mind. I went ahead and ordered you a set of books. Giorgio said you alternate between a bookstrap and a satchel, so I ordered you both. I also ordered your school robes. Your friend Élodie gave me your measurements, so that was easily done. I don’t know what you want for your weekend robes, nor what you want for sleeping.”

Vega looked down at the cotton night rail Allegra had shrunk and lent her. She looked back up at Allegra inquiringly.

“Do you like it? Shall I order more for you? A few in cotton, and few in wool. You will also need a few shawls and dressing gowns,” Allegra said, pulling the correct catalogues out of the stack she had brought. She handed it to Vega. “Here. Choose the styles you want.”

Vega browsed through the catalogue quickly, and marked what Allegra asked for before returning it. 

“Next, you need robes for the weekend. A cloak for Fall, another for Spring and Summer, one more for winter, and a Mackintosh, perhaps? Oh! Shoes and boots, too -- I can’t believe I nearly forgot!” Allegra said, placing each catalogue in front of Vega as she listed them off.

As Vega marked and returned the catalogues to Allegra, Allegra filled out the forms and added other accessories that would match her cousin’s fashion sense -- things Vega would need -- belts, scarves, hats, and the like.

“All right. That’s done. We’ll have to take you to Twilfitt and Tattings to get dress robes at some point. Mayhaps during Yule break?” Allegra offered.

Vega looked up at the question, brow furrowed. She shook her head and snapped.  _ I’m going home for Yule. Leda is expecting me. _

Allegra thought for a minute. “Will you be able to travel to wherever home is for the two of you? Do you think you might instead both travel to Arezzo with me? I know Nonna and Bisnonno Lukas would love to see you both,” she said gently. 

Vega’s gaze veered off to the side for a few seconds before meeting Allegra’s eyes again.  _ If I go to see your family, I shall also be expected to see the rest of the family, and we don’t know whether that is safe. _

“We’ll go to the French tailor in Hogsmeade, then. He’s getting up in his years, but we’ll go earlier rather than later, and hopefully, he can finish whatever we commission before you need dress robes,” Allegra said, changing the subject.

Vega smiled, agreeing to Allegra’s alternative.  _ Do you have any catalogues for trousers? Or non-european styles? Dueling wear, perhaps? _

“Dueling wear? Trousers?” Allegra repeated. “Oh! Yes, of course. You want something closer to Jindai Hanfu, yes?” 

Vega nodded.  _ I’m fine with robes, but Hanfu is much more suitable for exercise and running errands.  _

“That will be a bit tricky. The only people I know of who wear them are Bisnonno Lukas and his sister. I will ask Bisnonno for the name of their preferred tailor. How does that sound?”

_ All right. In the meantime, though, I think I would like to order some trousers and tunics.  _

“Of course, Vega. I’ll bring those to you soon.”

_ Thank you. _ Vega smiled brightly at Allegra.

Allegra put all the catalogues and order forms away. She poured more tea and cast privacy spells. She also drew the curtain around Vega’s bed. “Vega, I need to ask you something, but I don’t want you to be offended,” said Allegra.

Vega nodded before sipping her tea. She unrolled her essay, but gestured so Allegra knew she meant to write while Allegra talked.

Allegra took a deep breath first. “How did Leda learn to speak?”

Vega’s hand paused mid-air. She slowly set her quill in its stand. She tilted her head to the side and looked at Allegra for so long without blinking that Allegra’s palms started to sweat. Had she offended her cousin? Was this a sensitive topic? Did Leda  _ not _ know how to speak? Was her baby cousin half feral?

Finally, Vega picked up her wand.  _ The raven, house elf, portraits, and our guardian taught her. _

“Oh,” Allegra said, relieved. “You took so long to answer I was starting to fear what you would say.”

Vega smirked.  _ Did you think I only taught Leda how to whistle, grunt, and beat her chest? _

Allegra rolled her eyes. “No, of course not. But still, you don’t have a proper adult living with you all the time--and no, I don’t consider your guardian to be a proper adult--he’s …”

_ He did raise his own daughter, once upon a time, you realize? _

Allegra’s eyes widened in surprise. “Really? Was he any good at it? How does a divine being know what a mortal child needs? What  _ any _ child needs?”

Vega gave Allegra an unimpressed look.  _ We’re alive, aren’t we? Clearly, he did an adequate job. _

“Yes, but you don’t just want adequate for Leda. I know how protective you are of her. You want the best.” What Allegra left unsaid, but implied, was an accusation that Vega wouldn’t allow any of their family to see Leda, but left Leda in the care of an often-absent immortal, an elderly house elf, and portraits of deceased relatives. Allegra felt conflicted. She wanted to see her baby cousin, and she too wanted Leda to grow up well, but she also understood why Vega didn’t trust anyone. Ibis had been missing for six years, and Leda was all Vega had left of her most immediate family.

Vega huffed out a breath, frowning. Allegra found herself fascinated with her cousin’s communication and facial and body language. She had to watch Vega’s face, and body, but also read her messages. Sometimes, Vega communicated without eye contact, but without being able to listen to someone speak, Allegra had to be more observant of body language.

_ He treats us like his own children. He treats all of us like his own children. He may not be able to spend all his time with us, but he is the only family I can trust unconditionally. He has no ulterior motives. Why would he? As for the human needs, Lulu knows how to raise children. She raised my grandfather.  _ Vega returned to her essay.

Allegra furrowed her brows. Fine. Lula was an expert at child-rearing, and as far as Allegra remembered, Grand-Oncle Ari had taught his elves several languages, so Leda was getting physical, emotional, and mental nourishment on a regular basis. As for the Vermillion Bird. Yes, he was trustworthy. Especially considering how few Cardinal Family members still lived, it was especially important that he preserved the safety of the Lang sisters. But … couldn’t he have another child? 

Vega’s head whipped up. 

“Did I say that aloud?” Oops.

_ Yes. You did.  _

“Well, it is a valid question, isn’t it?”

Vega closed her eyes to think. Allegra stared at her cousin’s face, wondering if Vega had a single vain bone in her body. Vega’s complexion was clear, her cheekbones high, and her face a soft oval shape. Her eyelashes were long, dark, and contrasted with her skin, and her eyes were such a pretty green hazel. Allegra wondered if Vega would consent to sit for a portrait. Oh, Vega had caught her staring. Allegra blushed.

Vega raised a brow.  _ Perhaps he could have another child. However, I’m not sure he wants to pay the price. The mother of his child died in childbirth, so he had to cut his daughter out of the womb. And besides, I’m not sure he wants to watch his child die again. _

Allegra thought about it. Great-great-grandmother Ulrike had outlived her husband, a son, a daughter-in-law, and a grandson. Had she lived another three years, she would have suffered through the deaths of Vega’s parents and grandparents. That was probably nothing compared to living forever, however, and knowing your child for only what seemed like a blink of an eye. “I guess that was an insensitive and thoughtless question,” she said.

Vega returned to her essay.

Allegra checked the time. It was close to curfew. She started packing her belongings. “Shall I leave the thermos with you?”

Vega nodded absently.

“There’s a Hogsmeade weekend coming up. Bisnonno, Nonna, my mother and Achille want to come see you. You should be out of the hospital wing by then. What do you think of making a nice day trip into the village, and having a meal with them? Mamma said she already wrote to Oncle Bertram, and he knows you’re here. If he wants to make a trip to see you, though, he’ll have to grease the wheels -- the French borders are still being closely monitored. Anyone wanting to cross them has to send in a petition. I’m sure she’ll time her letter to him so he doesn’t have time to petition in time. This way, it’ll be just the people we can trust. Didi and I will come, of course. Nicolay can come, too, if you want,” Allegra said. 

Vega stopped writing and stared pensively at her essay. She finally looked up.  _ I’ll come. Your mother always ran circles around most of our mothers’ generation. If she says she’ll keep Oncle from coming, I believe her. I think it’s best if Auguste comes, too. If he’s going to be involved in helping me find Ibis and my family’s murderers, he needs to be brought into the family fold. I should introduce him. _

“All right, then. I’ll see you next week. Didi said he should be able to visit tomorrow. Let me know how writing in English goes. If you need someone to look it over, tell us. Sleep well,” Allegra said. 

The two cousins hugged before parting for the night.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Latin - it seems improbable that 9 Beauxbatons students know English well enough to attend Hogwarts without any adjustment. It's not strange for the professors to give them some leeway for a few months to a year. I imagine the older students already knew enough English to communicate (Vega, Giorgio, Élodie, Pierre); Jean-Pierre's family is in Canada so he already had cousins there maybe, and is fluent; Nicolas, Étienne, Marielle, and Alba are all from old families so private tutoring has helped, but they are all definitely getting more tutoring over the weekends or in the afternoons to improve their English. In the meantime, all of them are allowed turn homework in in Latin. Since HP spells are latin-based, I think it would make sense that many European magical children learn Latin (thus Molly's internal dialogue).
> 
> il bacio/il bacetto - the Italian equivalent of la bise, or so the internet tells me. Auguste thinks in French, so he would call it la bise, but Allegra is Italian. 
> 
> Mooncakes - a Chinese pastry eaten during the Mid-Autumn festival. It's always full moon during mid-autumn night. Traditionally, you would eat mooncakes and other pastries, drink tea, moon gaze, and recite poetry. They're usually filled with sweetened red bean or mung bean paste, nuts, or lotus seed paste. Sometimes duck yolks are cured and added into the lotus or red bean filled ones. Those are my favorites.
> 
> peach blossom tea - in spring when the peach trees (non-fruiting types) bloom, pick the blossom by the basket, wash them, dry them, set them in the oven on low, or in a dehydrator, or in the sun to dry (although that defeats the purpose of washing them so I prefer the indoor methods). This makes a delicate tea that's naturally sweet, but generally, Chinese people are more likely to sweeten flower teas (tisanes, really), which aren't technically "tea" in the strictest sense. If you eschew washing them before drying, or you dry in the sun (use a screen on top so not as much dust or bugs get in them), then you want to do a quick "wash" with hot water, quickly toss it, then clean water for the actual brew.
> 
> Jindai Hanfu - "hanfu" is traditional Chinese (Han chinese, to be precise) clothing. I added "jindai" which means modern. In other words, even though the Mongols and Manchurians changed the acceptable mode of dress, the magical population continued to wear what they liked, but they altered the clothing to be functional according to the times. Typically, witches and wizards alike will wear trousers/leggings underneath, though, for ease of movement and extra warmth. I haven't quit been able to envision what this looks like, so it's still vague. 
> 
> Character Introductions:
> 
> Alexander Nott: Ravenclaw 5th year prefect. His mother is a Danish half-blood witch. His father is Theodore Nott. I placed him in Ravenclaw as a demonstration of changing cultural values between generations. 17 is still a formative part of youth, and while Theodore Nott was a blood purist growing up, I think that the war changed people and how they think about blood and systemic racism and genocide. Alexander's younger sister Julia, is a first year in Slytherin. He dotes on her.
> 
> Molly Weasley: Ravenclaw 5th year prefect. She is not an OC, but she may as well be? Since I don't consider Cursed Child canon and we hardly know anything about the younger generation. Molly has considered Alexander her academic rival since first year. She and her younger sister Lucy are both in Ravenclaw, as is their cousin Hugo Weasley. Rose Weasley sorted into Gryffindor. I had initially wanted to place Molly and Vega in Gryffindor, but decided ultimately that having Vega in a different house from all her cousins/childhood friend was a bit ... hard to write? I feel like that isn't the reason, but can't quite remember at the moment. I also wanted to have a Weasley or Potter in every house, so here we are. The non-Gryffindors are Louis in Hufflepuff, the above three in Ravenclaw, and of course, Albus in Slytherin. Anyway. Because Vega became a Ravenclaw, and I had imagined a study scene with her, Molly, and Alexander, and thought, well, why not move Molly to Ravenclaw, too? That'll be interesting. The child of a deatheater friends with the child of a "bloodtraitor" (whatever that may mean more than twenty years post-Voldemort). Plus, I realized I no longer had my canon character POV now that Vega was a Ravenclaw instead of Gryffindor. Least, not one Vega's age. So both of Percy's children are in Ravenclaw. Anyway, I figure Percy was very smart, and we don't know much about Audrey, so I think I can justify putting not just one, but both his children in Ravenclaw.


	8. In which Filius confirms some theories, Vega moves into Ravenclaw, and Molly learns something shocking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was going to be longer. I was initially going to also include the Hogsmeade family meeting, but that scene got way too long to keep with what I have in this chapter. I'm also still writing it, and it's already longer than this one. So I know this one's a bit short, but the next one will be longer.

_Wednesday_

_Hogwarts Hospital Wing_

_Filius Flitwick_

Filius walked into the hospital wing. He talked with Poppy about his newest Ravenclaw’s health. She was mostly recovered, but Poppy wanted to keep her in convalescence for another day or so. 

He sat down by Vega Lang’s bedside. She was slowly making her way through her lunch. Filius checked his watch. It was a little after one in the afternoon. Poppy did mention the girl was a slow eater, but this was bordering on ridiculous. He had talked to Poppy for about fifteen minutes before he approached his student, and she had barely made any progress. 

Filius looked at Vega Lang’s food. Quiche, bean soup, and blanched greens. “Good afternoon, Miss Lang,” he said. “Poppy tells me you are mostly recovered, physically at least. How do you feel?”

Vega pulled her wand from her sleeve and tilted it up. _I feel all right. Thank you for asking, Professor Flitwick._

“Molly and Alexander told me you didn’t have very many questions about the curriculum, and you seemed to understand most of the material even better than they. Neither are prone to exaggeration. How did you find the homework?” he asked.

Vega summoned several scrolls of parchment. She held them out to Filius. _It wasn’t too difficult. However, I did have to resort to writing the essays for your class, Professor Bonner’s, and Professor Delacour’s in Latin._

Filius blinked. History, he understood, but charms and transfiguration? “I’m sure Professor Delacour would accept your essays in French. Shall I mention it to her?”

Vega shook her head. _No. I don’t want to rely on a crutch, even more so than I already am. I hope that soon I’ll be able to write all my essays in tolerable English._

“May I ask why these classes in particular gave you more trouble than the others?” Filius asked. “Your grasp of the English written form seems proficient.”

Vega Lang swished her wand. _I am fine with everyday language. As such, because my family lives in a mixed community, and we have a small business selling potions ingredients and other edibles, I understand the technical vocabulary of herbology and potions. Astronomy and Arithmancy I can substitute English jargon for Latin or French, which is accepted convention in academic journals. For Runes, the technical jargon is based on the languages I am already familiar with. It is only in charms, history, and transfiguration that I cannot yet express myself well._

Filius considered what Vega had shared. “I see. You are quite a prodigious witch, Miss Lang. Will you humor an old wizard, and explain what charms you are using to communicate?”

Vega Lang’s face froze for a split-second before she recovered her wits and smiled at him. Filius was impressed with her reaction time. 

His new charge looked about the hospital wing. There was only one other bed occupied on the other side of the room. The other student had been sedated by Poppy in order to regrow his leg, which he’d broken into so many pieces it wasn’t worth the effort to mend. Nevertheless, Filius understood her trepidation. He cast _muffliato_ and another spell he had crafted himself. Anyone outside a radius he set would only see a vague fuzzy impression of the caster and their surroundings. He explained this to Vega Lang, whose head had tilted to one side when he started casting.

_Professor Flitwick, I suppose it would be offensive if I tried to prevaricate about the magic I use to ‘talk.’_

Filius smiled and shrugged. “Your wand movements are never the same when you ‘talk,’ and the only correlation I have seen between the appearance of the flames and how you cast is your emotional state,” he said.

Vega Lang sighed. She looked Filius in the eyes. _As my head of house, you are my guardian while I reside in Hogwarts, are you not, Professor?_

“Yes, Miss Lang. As such,” he continued, guessing what she was implying, “I am responsible for your safety and I am bound by oath to protect you. It is not as quite like that of a blood oath or an unbreakable vow. I would say it is somewhere between an unbreakable vow and the Hippocratic one taken by healers.”

 _All right. Watch my hands carefully._ Vega Lang continued to hold her wand in her right hand while she tapped the pads of her fingers against her thumb. Different alphabets and scripts appeared in flames depending on the finger tapped against her thumb. She snapped her fingers and a miniature fireball appeared, floating above her wand tip and blue. She inhaled deeply through her nose, eyes closing, and the fireball vanished.

Flitwick shuddered. He’d felt the last bit keenly. His great-grandfather had taught him how to sense elemental magic before he allowed him to learn about goblin magic. The goblin blood in him was strong enough he could sense goblin magic and understand it innately, but he couldn’t use it well, nor could he teach it. His innate magic and childhood training _did_ allow him, however, to understand and feel subtle changes in the environment when others used elemental magic. What Vega Lang had done was neither a charm, nor a _finite._ She had created fire from the environment when she was tapping her fingers, then dispelled the flames. When she snapped, she had summoned fire from her own magic, _and then she had absorbed it back into her core_. 

Most wizards and witches expended magic like energy, and that was it. It was part of chaos and the environment. It did not return to them directly. Only indirectly through potions, food, and rest. Vega Lang was able to reabsorb the fire because she had called it forth directly from herself without using a spell. It was not magic normal witches or wizards could do. Their magic had to translate itself through physical processes and intent to change the environment. Only a dragon or veela, or any other non-human being or creature with fire-based magic could do what Vega did at the end. Or someone with that sort of ancestry. Still, Filius doubted Apolline Delacour or her daughters could wield such potent fire magic. Not without harming or even killing themselves. The stories about the Cardinal Families and their ancestry were no myths.

“Brava, Miss Lang,” Filius said. “Truly remarkable mastery of elemental magic, not to mention wandless! It was as I suspected, after all.”

Vega’s face remained impassive. She put her wand away. There was no sense in continuing to put on a show for Filius.

“I see the rumors about you and your family have much basis,” he said. He verbally cast a warming charm over her food. “Rest assured, I will not share what I have learned about your magical prowess unless it is for your own safety. Now, I will ask you a few more questions, and I will try my best to keep to yes or no questions so that you may simply shake or nod your head while you finish your lunch. Will that do?”

Vega didn’t quite smile, but Filius could make out her cheeks dimpling slightly. She nodded as she picked up her fork and knife.

“My first question, Miss Lang -- and it is only from curiosity. Are you a vegetarian?” 

She nodded, cutting into her quiche.

“My second question. Are you watching your diet carefully in order to get enough iron and protein?”

Vega nodded again.

Filius moved onto a more serious topic. “My third question. Do you need to see a mind healer?”

Vega looked at him while she chewed. She didn’t answer.

“Let me rephrase my question, Miss Lang,” Filius said. “I think you probably do. However, it’s ultimately up to you. Would you _like_ to see a mind healer?”

Vega Lang ate another forkful of quiche. She shook her head.

“And that’s all right, too,” Filius reassured her. “I, too, have experienced many losses and grieved for a long time. ‘Time heals all wounds’ is merely a platitude. Time doesn’t heal wounds. When we lose loved ones, especially in sudden or violent ways, it leaves indelible wounds on the mind and heart. They scab and scar, but they do not vanish. Sometimes, they reopen. It takes a long time for them to scar and heal enough so we do not have to worry about functional relapses.”

Vega Lang had pushed her plate to the side, and was staring morosely at her soup. She picked up the spoon, with her right hand. The fingers on her left wiggled, and the metal spoon changed from a European spoon into a shorter handled Asian style spoon which would allow her to scoop up more liquid at once. Filius was thrilled by this display of non-verbal, wandless magic. True, she relied on certain hand motions -- psychological tricks to focus the mind -- to make the spells work, but it was still incredible magic for anyone, not just a fifteen year-old.

Filius watched her eat for a moment. She would gather bits of vegetables with the spoon and eat them. Then the broth alone and drink it. Then repeat. 

“Miss Lang, if you ever change your mind about seeking mental healing, please let me know,” he said.

Vega Lang nodded, chewing slowly.

“Some of your fellow transfers are meeting a tutor to improve their English. Do you want me to give the tutor your name? She can help with your technical writing,” he asked.

Vega nodded.

“I am given to understand that you have been hiding in plain sight throughout your attendance at Beauxbatons Academy?”

Vega sipped from a glass of water. She set it down and nodded.

“It was a risky gambit,” Filius said. “And yet, it worked. You must have done your level best to disappear into the wallpaper.”

Vega’s head tilted. She righted her head, seeming to puzzle out Filius’s colloquilism. She nodded once, before picking up her spoon again.

“I’m afraid you won’t be able to keep up such a ruse here at Hogwarts. Not with the manner of your arrival,” he said.

Vega continued to eat. She was nearly done with her soup. 

“Is there anything you can think of, that I may do for you to help you stay safe while you attend Hogwarts, despite the fact that you are no longer in cognito, Miss Lang?” Filius asked.

Vega Lang scooped up the last of the broth and sipped it from her spoon with agonizing slowness. Flitwick wondered if he needed to have Poppy put the girl on nutrition potions. Or check her for tooth or digestive problems. He would tell her before he left.

Finally, the soup was finished, and Vega was back to working on her quiche and greens. She tapped her index finger against her thumb, fork held in her palm with the other three fingers. _Please just treat me as you would any other student, Professor._

“All right. I shall do my best. Rest up, and I’ll send a female prefect along to help you move into the dormitory tomorrow or Friday,” he said.

Filius canceled the silencing and fuzzy-illusion spells. He talked to Poppy briefly before leaving the hospital wing. He had a lot to think about. He and Minerva would need to ready themselves. Vega Lang was a danger magnet much the same way Harry Potter had been. To be fair, she seemed slightly more well-adjusted than Harry. She didn’t have a dark lord attempting to kill her every year of her academic career. Incidentally, she trusted adult authority figures enough to share pertinent information. According to what records they had from Beauxbatons thus far, she had never gone on any crazy adventures while she attended the French Academy. Nor had she been in imminent peril during her school years. Filius supposed that if a nine year-old was handy and clever enough to flee genocide with a toddler sibling, travel from one continent to another, and survive and hide in plain sight for six entire years, she was probably mature and competent enough to hide any crazy adventures from supervising adults. He had best tell Minerva something to the effect. Hermione was no idiot like Fudge, obviously. She had been Harry’s best friend, besides, and wouldn’t try to sack or arrest Minerva if Vega Lang attracted weirdos and murderers to Hogwarts. However, Minerva didn’t need a heart attack or high blood pressure. Best to take preventative measures than deal with potential disasters after the fact.

  
  
  


\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

_Friday evening_

_Ravenclaw Tower, Fifth Year Girls’ Dormitory, Delta Room_

_Molly Weasley_

Molly watched her new roommate unpack her belongings. She wondered why Vega didn’t just use a few charms and save herself a lot of time. 

Unlike Molly, who kept her question to herself, Sabrina had no such qualms, and asked Vega aloud.

Vega’s hands stilled upon a shawl she had been folding. She drew her wand from her sleeve and swished it. _I like to do some tasks manually. I meditate or think while I do them._

“What’s the difference? Meditation and thought?” Willia asked curiously.

Vega flicked her wand. _When you meditate, your mind stills. When you think, your thoughts run free._

“What do you normally do manually?” Molly asked.

_Certain chores -- washing dishes, laundry, tidying._

That made sense, Molly thought. She often used chore time to sort through her own thoughts when she was at home.

“Do you do it every time you have to do chores, though?” Sabrina asked. “It sounds rather tedious. And besides, you’re a pureblood, aren’t you? You can do magic at home or at school, so why bother doing it all by hand?”

 _It was tedious at first._ Vega admitted. _However, you normally expend more energy doing these things by magic than by hand. When I was younger, it was preferable to conserve my energy. Now, it’s habit, and I like the meditation and thinking time._

“That’s a good attitude to have,” Molly said. “My grandmother used to make my father and his siblings do their chores by hand when they were children, too. Didn’t let them use magic until they were of age. Said it built character, and motor skills besides. My parents are the same with my sister and I.”

Vega smiled at Molly.

“Do you mind if I help?” Molly asked. “I’d like to show you to the Great Hall since it’s almost dinner time.”

_Sure. Thank you for the help, Molly._

Sabrina rolled her eyes and flounced out the dormitory. Willia hesitated, looking after Sabrina, then back toward Molly and Vega.

“Do you need a third set of hands?” Willia asked.

_I could use a third set of hands. Thank you, Willia._

The three girls quickly finished tidying Vega’s clothes. Then Willia and Molly left the dormitory so Vega could ward her belongings in private.

  
  
  


Once they sat down at the Ravenclaw table, Molly introduced their neighbors. “This is Goron Teague. He’s in our year.”

The boy sitting across from Molly looked up from his book and nodded hello. His mouth was still full.

“This is Robert Winchester. You’ll probably be seeing him often since he’s a friend of Nicolay’s,” Molly said. 

Winchester held out a hand. “Charmed to meet you,” he said with a grin. “And yes. Auguste and I are friends. Not sure where he is at the moment, though I’m sure he’ll be along.”

A pretty girl on Winchester’s other side introduced herself. “I’m Ilana Miller. Pleased to meet you.”

“She’s the sixth year female prefect,” Molly said. “If Alexander and I aren’t around, you can go to her, Tristan Finch-Fletchley, Myrna MacLeod or Vivian Wensleydale. Finch-Fletchley’s the boy with the shiny hair. MacLeod and Wensleydale … aren’t here yet. I’ll point them out later.” 

“Personally, I think Ilana and Wensleydale will be more helpful than Finch-Fletchley or MacLeod,” Willia said from Vega’s other side. She offered the plate of roast beef to Vega, who shook her head. Willia shrugged before passing the plate down to Molly.

Molly served herself some roast beef. She grabbed a plate of roasted brussel sprouts, served herself, then passed the plate to Vega. “Willia’s right. Myrna helps tutor some of the younger students, but otherwise, she’s not very good about day-to-day logistical help. Tristan’s always been a bit unsure of himself, I think. It can be a bit of a chore talking to him. Not sure why they made him prefect when there were other choices.”

“Well, it’s not like they could have made Boot prefect. He’s a right troll, that one. Always playing pranks on people, or joking around like a fool,” Willia muttered, stabbing her dinner viciously. 

Molly buttered a dinner roll as she commented, “Yes, but that doesn’t explain why they didn’t make Nicolay prefect. He’s got decent grades and personality.” 

Across the table, Robert Winchester heard them. “Oh, he was offered the position. He turned it down.”

“What? Why?” Molly asked. Next to her, Vega looked up from her dinner. 

“He said he had better things to do than get entangled in British mock-politics,” Winchester said.

Willia laughed. “That sounds like Nicolay. So blunt. How is he the way he is when his father’s a diplomat?”

Winchester shrugged. “I’m not sure. Lang probably knows better than I do when it comes to Auguste’s formative years.”

Vega set her utensils down to retrieve her wand. _He’s always been very forthright. His father was always despairing that Auguste would never learn enough tact to become a diplomat. At this age, though, he probably just refuses to play politics, rather than doesn’t know how._

Winchester appeared to mull over Vega’s words. “Yeah. You’re probably right, Lang. I’ve seen him de-escalate fights with finesse over the years.”

“What’s this about me?” another male voice interjected from behind.

Molly, Vega, and Willia turned to look over their shoulders. Auguste Nicolay stood there with Anthony Boot, the Head Boy Vivian Wensleydale, and the Hufflepuff seventh year prefect Dieter de Stauf.

“Oh hello Auguste! We were just discussing why you turned down prefect,” Winchester said sunnily. 

Nicolay blinked a few times, shook his head, and bent down to exchange kisses on the cheek with Vega. “Bonjour, Vega. Ça va?”

_Ça va bien. Merci. Et tu, Auguste?_

“Ça va, merci,” Nicolay responded. “This is my friend, Anthony Boot.” 

Anthony shook hands with Vega before he and Nicolay went around the table to sit with Winchester.

Dieter de Stauf followed Auguste’s example, and exchanged greetings with Vega. Molly noticed Willia trying hard not to blush when the seventh year’s face neared.

After de Stauf straightened back up, he gestured to Wensleydale. “Vega, this is my best friend, Vivian Wensleydale. He’s Head Boy, and a Ravenclaw. He’s agreed to keep an eye out for you in my stead while you’re quartered in Ravenclaw,” de Stauf said.

Vega held her hand out. _It’s a pleasure to meet you, Vivian Wensleydale._

Wensleydale took Vega’s hand and bowed over it. “The pleasure is mine, March Lady Lang,” he said.

Molly saw Willia blush this time. She had to try hard not to laugh at her friend’s discomfort. 

Vega responded to Wensleydale’s formal manners. _We are all students here, Mr. Wensleydale, and you are my cousin’s dear friend. Informal address will do._

Wensleydale nodded. “Of course. I will call you Lang, then, until we are more familiar. You may call me however you wish.”

Vega huffed a laugh. _I shall call you Wensleydale, then._

De Stauf smiled handsomely at his cousin. “We’ll be off then. Viv’s eating with us at the Hufflepuff table tonight. Also here,” he said, handing a package over to Vega. “This is from Uroma Theresa.”

 _Thank you, Didi._ Vega took the package. She looked at both her cousin and Wensleydale. _Enjoy your dinner._

After the two seventh years left, Willia turned to ask, “Uroma? Is that German?”

Molly herself was also curious, but she was more amused about the nickname Vega called de Stauf. Such a cute diminutive for a grown wizard.

Vega nodded in response to Willia. _It’s an endearment for great-grandmother._ She put away her wand and returned to eating.

Willia looked like she was going to ask another question, but Molly glared at her. She pointedly looked down at Vega’s hands and dinner plate, then back at Willia, and then shook her head.

Willia got the message. They ate in silence for all of two minutes before Willia’s curiosity got the best of her.  
“So I know that wizarding etiquette is rather formal, but as a muggleborn, I still get confused about when formal manners are required, and when they’re not. How do you all know? And how come only Wensleydale bowed?” Willia asked, addressing Molly, Vega, and presumably Winchester, Boot, and Nicolay.

Molly shrugged and cut up her potato. “Don’t look at me. I’m a Weasley,” she said. This was not true, of course. Molly had an idea why, but she was hoping Willia would stop asking Vega questions so the girl could eat. 

“Halfblood,” Winchester said, also deferring the question, “and raised by muggle grandparents.”

Boot, Nicolay, and Vega looked at each other. Vega started setting her utensils down but Nicolay shook his head at her. Molly was gladdened.

“It depends on circumstance, place, and time. Typically in that order.” Nicolay said. 

“So if you apply it to just now,” Boot said, “I was introduced by Auguste. We’re at school right now— it’s an informal occasion. And it’s dinner time. I chose not to use formal manners with so many people watching with potentially no context.”

“And Vega reciprocated,” Nicolay finished.

“What about Wensleydale?” Willia asked.

“Wensleydale was introduced by a male family member. Even though Vega technically outranks both of them, she’s younger, and de Stauf asked Wensleydale to look after Vega, so there is a formal aspect to their future relationship,” Nicolay answered.

“Vega outranks them?” Willia asked, looking at Vega. 

Boot nodded. “Didn’t you hear what Wensleydale called her?”

Willia scrunched up her face. “March Lady Lang? What does March Lady mean?”

“Is it like Marcher Lord?” Winchester asked.

“Precisely,” Boot said. “As head of the Lang family, Lang herself is the hereditary Marchioness of the Lang patrimony.” Boot’s eyebrows furrowed. “Wait. Patrimony? Matrimony--no, that’s not right.”

“The endowment?” Molly offered.

“Sure. Patrimony works, too, technically, but it feels like I’m insulting the Cardinal Family matriarchs when I call it a patrimony,” Boot said. He cocked a brow at Vega, who shrugged one shoulder.

Willia stared at them in awe. “You’re all so posh!” she said.

Molly’s fork paused on its way to her mouth. Vega stopped cutting her vegetable pie. Nicolay chuckled. Boot choked on his pumpkin juice, snorted it up his nose, and then spluttered it all over his and his neighbors’ plates.

Ilana Miller, who sat on Boot’s other side, exclaimed in disgust. “Anthony! What is wrong with you?!”

Nicolay sighed and vanished all three plates. Three clean plates appeared in their place.

“Sorry, Ilana,” Boot said, taking the handkerchief she pushed at him. “Sawyer made me laugh and the pumpkin juice went down the wrong way.”

Willia’s cheeks pinkened. “Was what I said really that funny?”

“It was,” Boot said.

“Never been called posh in my life,” Winchester muttered. “My granddad helped form a trade union.”

“Yes, but isn’t he also the son of a Viscount?” Boot asked.

“Third son. They cut him off after he married my grandmum,” Winchester said. 

“Then your father ended up marrying your mother, the last member of a Noble and Most Ancient family,” Boot added.

“Rub the salt in, why don’t you?” Winchester groused, cutting his beef with more force than necessary.

Nicolay, the quiet arbitrator of the three, intervened before Boot could fan any more flames. “I think Sawyer has another question.”

Willia nodded, hands gesticulating wildly, nearly knocking her goblet over. Molly caught it before it splashed all over Vega’s plate. Vega grinned at Molly, who smiled back.

“How does it work if you’re a member of the peerage, both muggle and magic?” Willia asked.

“They don’t teach that in your Magical Culture classes?” Molly asked.

“No, they don’t,” Winchester said. “I had to figure it out myself when your beau asked me whether I was going to attempt to revive the family tradition of sitting on the Wizengamot.”

“My beau?” Molly asked, mystified.

“Nott,” Boot supplied. “Are the two of you not courting?”

Molly dropped her fork onto her plate. Vega surreptitiously waved her wand to clear up the food which had gone flying. 

“Courting?” Molly repeated. 

“Yeah,” Boot said. “Since your third year.”

Molly’s jaw dropped.

Nicolay sighed and shoved a bread roll in Boot’s mouth. Vega gently pushed a goblet of pumpkin juice into Molly’s hands, urging her to drink. Willia’s head swung back and forth between Molly and Boot, eyes sparkling with interest.

Molly drank her juice. She thought furiously about Alexander’s behavior since the beginning of the year. He had been acting very considerate. There had been less teasing, too. But third year? He’d been courting her since _third year?!_ And she hadn’t noticed? Was she that oblivious? And why her? She was a _Weasley_ ! And he was a _Nott_! Didn’t he care that his father would disown him?

Molly finished her dinner in silence, unheeding of the quiet explanations of Muggle-Magical political machinations and how the two governments kept conflicts of interests from developing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ça va bien. Merci. Et tu, Auguste? - Let’s break this down. Ça va = How are you? You can answer with Ça va if you’re doing well, or add bien, which means “good.” Merci = Thank you. Et tu = And you
> 
> Character introductions:
> 
> Willia Sawyer - Fifth Year Ravenclaw. Muggleborn. Gets along better with Molly than Sabrina Davies does. Her parents are lower middle class, and they wouldn’t have been able to afford sending her to a public school if she had been muggle. She only has sisters, so she finds boys utterly fascinating. *ahem. In other words, she doesn't know how to act around them, especially now that she's in the throes of adolescence. 
> 
> Robert Winchester - Sixth Year Ravenclaw. Halfblood. I haven’t decided which family his mother comes from, but his father is a muggleborn. I don’t mean to imply that Robert would ever become a peer of the realm, muggle or magical (many people would have to die before he could inherit -- and he wouldn’t want to, most likely), but he became curious about it himself when Alexander Nott asked him about whether he would join the Wizengamot since his mother’s family was active in politics. He was orphaned young. 


	9. In which Bertram gets the better of Berenice, and Dieter gets to watch Vega give a set-down to Oncle Bertram

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the family tree:  
> https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1lAu2pxbCPBBw30agUbgQKzTbBkDLSK7E3kdrrQ9Xpek/edit?usp=sharing

_Friday evening_

_Outside the Great Hall_

_Auguste Nicolay_

Auguste was walking Vega back to Ravenclaw tower after dinner when he was flagged down by Zabini and de Stauf. 

“Nicolay,” Zabini said, “we need to talk.”

Vega, whose hand was tucked into Auguste’s arm, looked at her cousins’ serious expressions, then back at Auguste. She gave him a pitying look, patted his arm, and started sauntering away.

De Stauf snorted while Auguste gaped. Even Zabini’s stern expression melted away. She rolled her eyes before wrangling her younger cousin.

“You too, Vega. Come on,” Zabini said.

Vega sighed, allowing her taller cousin to drag her along. Auguste looked to de Stauf, who nodded his head toward the girls before following. Auguste followed the three cousins.

  
  


They went to the library. On a Friday evening, it was deserted. All three cousins still cast privacy spells. Vega cast something shimmery which she explained afterwards as a spell Flitwick had created to distort the visual reality of the caster’s proximity.

“That’s ingenious. He wasn’t a dueling champion and Charms crafter for nothing,” Auguste said.

“Do you know the incantation, Vega?” De Stauf asked.

Vega looked mildly embarrassed. _I didn’t ask, and the professor didn’t say. He only explained the theory. It’s probably torqueo or cogite, though. I’m casting based on those thoughts, anyway._

“Hmm. It’s interesting that you would cast with both the caster’s and the perceivers’ senses in mind,” Zabini said. “We’ll give it a try on our own later. If it doesn’t work for us, we can always go and ask Professor Flitwick what the incantation is.”

“Now that that’s done. Let’s move onto business matters,” de Stauf said. “Alli, if you could?”

Zabini pulled a letter out of her pocket. “Unfortunately I have bad news,” she said. She handed the letter over to Vega for perusal. “Nicolay, I know Vega invited you to our family meal on Saturday. However, we’ve just learnt that Vega’s Oncle Bertram somehow discovered we were meeting and has invited himself. It’s no longer an informal meal, but a formal family meeting. Ultimately, the decision is up to Vega, but Dieter and I both think it’s best if you don’t come this time.”

De Stauf added, “It’s not that you’re no longer welcome, Nicolay. It’s more that we don’t quite have good enough measure of Oncle Bertram and his intentions yet. It’s better we try to gauge his motivations with family first before introducing other parties. Your family is of interest to his children’s futures, especially since Ibis’s whereabouts and health are so uncertain.”

Vega folded up the letter and handed it back to Zabini. _My cousins are correct, Auguste. This is not a good time to introduce you to the other branches of the family. You and Oncle Bertram are already acquainted, obviously. Having you there will divide his attention between you and I. Right now, it’s more important to figure out his intentions toward Leda and I without complicating it with his ambitions for a betrothal between your family and his._

Auguste crossed his arms. He tapped one arm with a finger, thinking. “All right,” he said. “I understand.”

 _I’m sorry, Auguste. I invited you only two days ago, and now I’m rescinding the invitation._ Vega looked apologetic.

Auguste shook his head. He smiled at Vega to assure her. “You don’t have to apologize,” he said, looking each cousin in the eye. “I understand completely your reasoning, and I want everything to run as smoothly as possible.”

“Didi,” Zabini said, addressing the older boy, “will you update the reservation at Fabien’s?”

De Stauf nodded. “Yes, I will.”

“Also, do you think that perhaps we may bring Passerini into this, Vega?” Zabini asked.

Vega nodded slowly. _He knows enough. I don’t want to endanger him unnecessarily, but_ Vega’s flames ended there, the thought left hanging.

“But … ?” de Stauf prompted.

Vega grimaced. _He’ll be incensed if I do not ask for his help. That night when you three came and ate dinner with all the families, he acknowledged a life debt and implied he would help me, no matter how difficult the way._

“All right. So perhaps we can arrange an informal meeting between Didi’s family and mine to meet Nicolay and Passerini,” Zabini said.

“Do you think we should acquire the use of a pensieve?” Auguste asked suddenly.

The cousins looked at him curiously. 

Auguste elaborated. “I know you can tell me well enough, the three of you, with sufficient detail, what happened at the meal after the fact. However, I think a pensieve would be useful in general when we share information between the three -- no, the four of us. Besides, I don’t know about the three of you, but my occlumency isn’t quite up to par. It would be useful too, if we learn to remove memories before interacting with certain people.”

“Ahh. Those are fair points,” de Stauf said. “The question then, is should we ask our families if they have one to lend, or should we try to acquire one with our own means. The less people who know, the less who might suspect what we’re about?”

“I don’t think we should ask our families,” Zabini said. “I know my mother and great-grandfather will probably interrogate my entire family, but there’s also a possibility that Oncle Bertram learned of this meeting because someone wasn’t careful, and not because someone is disloyal. It’s best if we do this on our own.”

Vega brought the fingers of her free hand up to her throat. She flicked her wand. _Because of my gift, I cannot extract my memories for others to review._

“Oh,” Zabini said, shock evident in her eyes. De Stauf’s eyes had widened, and Auguste himself was vaguely cognizant of the fact that he would catch flies if he didn’t shut his mouth.

Vega continued. _Conversely, my mind is also impenetrable to legilimens, the imperius curse, and other mind-control or mind-altering spells._

“Th-that’s good,” Auguste managed to say.

“Yes, that’s a great relief to know!” Zabini added.

De Stauf’s brows had lowered. He was frowning. 

“So how will we find one? Or do you think the four of us could manage to make one ourselves?” Zabini asked.

“I think it’s best if we buy one that has been goblin-worked,” Auguste said. “Even better if we can buy one directly from them. If anyone is watching our activities -- our purchases, that is, it’s less likely they’ll be watching what we do with Gringotts as long as there is no paper trail with the gold.”

_How would we acquire the capital? Pensieves are expensive. Especially ones finished by goblin magic._

“Supposing that our own funds aren’t enough, I think we can manage to gather the rest through informal channels,” Zabini said. She tapped a finger against her lip. “I’ve been brewing potions since first year, and selling them or trading them for favors. I’ve saved most of that gold. I’m brewing some felix felicis at the moment. It should fetch a sizable amount if I sell it.”

“Perhaps it would be best to directly barter something like that with the goblins?” Auguste said. “I have some muggle stocks. If I liquidate some and exchange them for galleons, that won’t make it into my Gringotts account activity records.”

Vega looked like she was thinking. Auguste and Zabini waited patiently. De Stauf was still frowning.

Finally Vega unfolded her arms and sat up straight. She waved her wand. _The only thing I have to barter, which the goblins would value highly is Vermillion fire._

“Oh, dear Melusine!” Zabini exclaimed. “Yes, the goblins would definitely be interested. It would be highly useful for them in their smithing and tomb explorations,” She turned to address her older cousin. “Didi, what do you think?”

De Stauf had been silent for a while. He looked up, but instead of addressing Zabini’s question, he reached over and grasped Vega’s hand. His palm dwarfed most of Vega’s hand, his long fingers wrapped under her wrist.

“Vega, how much exactly did you give the ancestor in return for protecting your mind?” de Stauf asked, grey eyes dark.

Vega looked down at her cousin’s hand, met his gaze, then back down at his hand again.

De Stauf shook his head emphatically. “Don’t think you can lie about this,” he said. He looked meaningfully at their hands.

Auguste looked at their hands again. What were the cousins not saying with words? Even Zabini was looking alternately between their hands and their faces.

Vega breathed deeply, eyes closing. She took another calming breath. De Stauf’s face hardened. He adjusted his grip on Vega’s hand and … oh. He was taking Vega’s pulse. Vega, though, was trying to calm her pulse by adjusting her breathing.

Auguste watched the silent standoff in fascination, wondering who would win. 

Vega finally opened her eyes. She swished her wand. _I did what I had to do, Didi._ Her face was serene.

“What was the price? And what did he give you in exchange?” de Stauf asked, eyes narrowing.

Vega remained calm. Auguste wondered if she had as much control over her pulse as her body and facial language. 

_I had to give my grandmother a proper burial, Didi. Her talisman was not on her when the Bengali police found her body._

“So the Vermillion Bird took your voice in exchange? Your flesh for his?” de Stauf asked.

_No. I burned the feather he gifted me when he blessed me. He was not pleased with what I had done, but he knew why._

“So why did he take your voice?” de Stauf asked.

_I thought we went over this already. He took my voice in exchange for protecting my mind. In addition, he promised to protect Leda and I._

“That’s very vague,” de Stauf said.

Vega shrugged her free arm and shoulder, flicking that wrist at the same time. _I cannot tell you all the details right now. Only that it was a fair exchange considering what else he gave me._

De Stauf continued to stare at Vega. Finally, Zabini broke the silence.

“That’s enough of that,” she said. She separated Vega and de Stauf’s hands. “Didi, Vega will tell us when she’s able--”

“--when she wants, you mean?” de Stauf asked.

Zabini exhaled and rolled her eyes pointedly. “Don’t be such a dog about it. We gave her our allegiance, and promised to follow her until we finish avenging her family and the other genocide victims. If Vega doesn’t think it’s necessary for us to know, then we will trust her to let us know when the time comes,” she said.

“Normally, I would agree with that statement, Allegra,” de Stauf said. “However, that does not apply when it has to do with self-harm.”

“It isn’t self-harm, Dieter,” Zabini said with measured tones. “It’s equivalent exchange between two parties. And before you try to say that asking a divine being to take her vocal chords is self-harm, I’m going to remind you that even if he is our ancestor and she is his true heir, he cannot favor her more than any other mortal. She must give in order to receive, just like any other supplicant.”

De Stauf pulled his hand out of Zabini’s grasp. Vega did not. She tilted her head. Swished her wand. _Dieter. The ancestor’s protection is more than just random visits to Leda and I. He crafted_ **_this wand_ ** _for me. It’s made from a part of him. He has never given any other descendant more than one relic from his body. I needed to give him something in exchange. He didn’t just take any random part. He chose my voice strategically. By taking away my voice, he took away my scaffolding and ensured that my magical prowess would improve by leaps and bounds -- because it had to. Otherwise, Leda and I would perish. And he needed my voice, too, for amplifying his own power whilst his heir and the last of his descendants leave the boundaries of the Central kingdom. He’s the only thing keeping Summer from spiraling out of control within and without the kingdom._

De Stauf’s gaze moved from Vega’s wand to her face. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fine. All right. Equivalent exchange. One day, you’ll have to explain to me again why the Four Guardians are unable to keep the seasons in check without the help of mortals,” he said.

Vega smiled and nodded. _Yes, Didi. I shall._

Zabini looked relieved that her cousins had resolved their disagreement. She sagged in her seat. “I think that we should talk about the logistics of bartering with the goblins for a pensieve another day. If Vega is willing to part with some of her fire, I’m sure it will pay for a pensieve and more with the goblins. Whatever pittance we make at school or in the muggle world will surely be useful for other activities.”

“Let’s go to bed, then,” Auguste said. “You three have a big day ahead of you tomorrow.”

Zabini stood up. “Yes, Nicolay’s right. Didi, you need to owl Fabien’s. Vega, you should come with me. We need to figure out an ensemble for you tomorrow,” she said.

“You should go with her to Ravenclaw,” de Stauf said. “The package Uroma sent for her is full of formal wear, apparently.”

“Oh! Perfect. I suppose I’ll go with the two of you then? We should be able to get something sorted before curfew,” Zabini said, looking at Auguste and Vega.

“Of course,” Auguste said. He stood and offered his hand to Vega.

  
  
  


\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

_The next morning_

_Hufflepuff 7th Year Boy’s dormitory_

_Dieter de Stauf_

Dieter stood by his bed. He had laid out three different sets of dress robes, and was trying to decide which suited lunch with the extended family best. This would be the first extended family meeting where members of all five houses would be present since Grand-Oncle Ari’s funeral. 

He finally decided on indigo mulberry silk robes and a charcoal wool cloak. He knew Vega would wear mulberry silk as well, and other than her Beauxbatons uniform and nightrails, he had yet to see her wear any light palettes. 

His Uroma Theresa had sent a package containing Hanfu, Jindai Hanfu, and custom designed Eurasian styles of robes from her youth to Vega after Dieter had written to her about Vega’s appearance on the evening of the Autumn Equinox. Dieter had been mystified by how his Uroma knew Vega’s measurements until Alli laughed and explained that she had given Vega’s measurements to her mother, who had probably passed it on to the rest of the family. Fortunately, Vega was slender and slight like Uroma Theresa. 

Dieter dressed and styled his hair. He collected his watch and a gold cloak pin with three leopards engraved on it from his valet box.

He nearly ran into his best friend on the stairway to the Great Hall. “Good morning, Viv!” Dieter said with a grin.

Viv looked him up and down. His gaze lingered on the cloak pin before returning to Dieter’s face. “Family reunion?”

“Yes. All five houses,” Dieter said.

Viv was quick on the uptake. “Your French uncle will be there?”

“Unfortunately,” Dieter said. “Despite Allegra’s mother's best attempt to ensure his absence, he somehow learned of this family lunch. He’s made it a formal family meeting rather than a casual meal.”

Viv clapped a hand to Dieter’s shoulder. “Well, I wish you and your cousins luck and good dealings, especially Lang.”

“Thank you, Viv,” Dieter said. 

Dieter met Alli and Vega by the carriages. Dieter had chosen his ensemble well. Alli wore robes of deep sea green, and Vega wore Jindai Hanfu composed of black upper robe, burgundy skirt, and black trousers. They both wore black wool cloaks. Alli must have expedited the order for Vega’s cloaks, or her relatives probably sent along the cloaks which no longer fit her. 

Dieter exchanged kisses on the cheek with his cousins, and morning greetings. 

“Shall we?” He handed first Vega, then Alli into the carriage, before climbing in himself. 

“Vega, Uroma Theresa sent this. It arrived this morning,” he said, pulling a small package from his pocket and handing it to her. 

Vega carefully unwrapped the package. She stared at the contents of the box, mouth slightly open. 

Dieter and Alli both leaned over, curious what had confounded their normally unflappable cousin.

Vega’s brows raised when she noticed her cousins’ behavior. She gingerly lifted a pair of red stone earrings and a red jadeite hairstick from the box. The stick and the end carving -- that of a bird -- were one piece, and a swinging piece with beads was attached in imitation of the bird’s tail plumage.

“Oh, Vega. They’re beautiful!” Alli exclaimed. “But why would Didi’s Uroma have …” she trailed off in confusion.

“Why would my Uroma have red jadeite with the Vermilion Bird’s likeness?” Dieter finished Alli’s thought.

Vega pulled a scrap of parchment from the box. She set the hairstick and earrings back in the box so that she could read the note. She offered it to Dieter after she finished reading.

Dieter read it aloud for Alli’s benefit. “Dear Vega. This hairstick belonged to your mother. She -- I suspect with the help of your brother Ibis -- misplaced it one year when she visited the Luxemburg family home. I found it when I was tidying your Uroma Ulrike’s estate earlier this year. I believe it is a serendipitous find as you turned fifteen this Spring. It will look marvelous on you. The red topaz earrings are a gift from me. ”

Alli smiled. “How wonderful! It’s just what you needed to finish your ensemble, Vega.”

Dieter quickly assessed his cousins’ fingers, wrists, collars, and ears. Alli wore a gold inlay brooch, a signet ring, and hanging gold earrings. Vega wore only her enchanted family watch, with the gold chain peeking at her waist. 

Dieter agreed with Alli and his Uroma Theresa’s sentiments. Vega was Mater familias of a Noble and Most Ancient house. She was sorely missing the proper accessories signifying her status. He supposed that when she had attended Beauxbatons semi-in cognito, she had no need to wear any family jewelry. Luckily, he thought, it also meant she had not lost any as a result of the attack on the academy.

Alli begged to redress Vega’s hair for her until the younger girl rolled her eyes and agreed. The exuberant girl took Vega’s chignon out, braided and piled Vega’s hair atop her head, before securing it all with the hair stick. She used Vega’s hairpins to help stabilize it. Finally, she helped Vega screw her earrings in.

“Doesn’t she look beautiful, Didi?” Alli asked happily.

“Very regal,” he said. 

Vega sighed but smiled at Alli’s antics. 

After they arrived at Hogsmeade, Dieter and Alli took Vega first to the tailor’s to order a few dress robes. Although Uroma Theresa had supplied an entire wardrobe of formal and dueling wear, none of them had been fully European or modern styles. After putting in the order, they went to Honeydukes where Vega initially only picked up a few bars of chocolate before Alli put her foot down and filled an entire basket, saying that Vega needed to experience all of the flavors and all the British-style sweets, and besides, Leda too deserved a care package. Vega nodded accommodatingly, and let Alli pay for it and shrink the package. 

That had been an argument which Vega lost to Alli and Alli’s great-grandfather Lukas. Vega was proud, and insisted she had enough funds to pay for Leda’s and her own necessities, but Alli had pointed out that necessities and living in comfort were very different. Giorgio had privately admitted to both Alli and Dieter that Vega never spent any money on frivolous things. She wore plain, practical robes. For Leda or Giorgio’s birthdays, Vega would go to the school kitchens and bake something decadent, or craft useful items which she made using clever charms and permanent transfiguration. For less intimate friends or acquaintances, she usually gifted something edible or preserved from her home gardens. She never celebrated her own birthday. She expressed unadulterated and straightforward appreciation when gifted even the smallest and simplest of trinkets. Most of the school believed she was a German or Scandinavian Lang, from one of the impoverished branches which had lost its fortune after Grindelwald or the muggle wars. Her Eurasian features were usually assumed to come from a Sámi (quite bizarrely, according to Giorgio) or a Near-Eastern mother.

Somehow, only Giorgio and Élodie Leblanc had guessed the truth. Vega did not dress as well as they, but she moved and behaved with the dignity and comportment of a witch from a well-respected house. Her education prior to arriving at Beauxbatons also screamed of private tuition with competent teachers, not to mention a cosmopolitan background born of meaningful travel. When she started taking Ancient Runes, her use of Jiaguwen, in addition to her proficiency in fire-based spells were major clues to her identity. The clincher for both of them, though, was the fact that Vega only ever mentioned her parents in the past tense. Neither Giorgio nor Leblanc had asked Vega to confirm their suspicions, however. They had not wanted to spook her and expected that they would find out sooner or later. Now was that later awaited time.

Dieter and his cousins went to Scrivenshaft’s to pick up writing supplies. Then browsed Tomes and Scrolls until it was time to meet the family for lunch. 

“Chin up, Vega,” Dieter said. “Don’t let your uncle’s presence marr the family lunch. Everyone else is happy just to see you.”

Vega nodded, face blank. 

Alli scowled. “Mama and Bisnonno said there were no traitors in the Zabini and Luxemburg houses. I want to know how the news of this meal leaked to Oncle Bertram,” she said.

“I’m sure we’ll find out. Oncle Bertram isn’t shy when it comes to sharing with us his triumphs and famous connections,” Dieter said, patting Alli’s shoulder.

On Alli’s other side, Vega patted Alli’s hand, which was wrapped around Vega’s arm like a mother would with a child who often wandered off.

Entering Fabien’s, Dieter helped the girls take off their cloaks before handing them off to the clerk.

“Bonjour, Monsieur,” Dieter said, greeting the maître d'hôtel.

“Bonjour. Trois personnes?” The wizard asked. “Ou, avez-vous une réservation?”

“Oui, nous l’avons. C’est Luxemburg,” Dieter responded.

“Ah oui, Luxemburg! Suivez-moi, s’il-vous-plait,” the wizard said.

They followed the maître d'hôtel to a private room. Inside, the table was set for fourteen. 

After the maître d'hôtel left the room, Alli turned to gesture at the long table. “Where do we sit? We should have asked for a round table,” she said.

Dieter shook his head. “Fabien’s doesn’t have round tables that seat large parties,” he said.

Vega walked over to the end of the table. Dieter wondered if she would take the seat of the guest of honor, to the right of the head of the table's seat. Her arm hovered over the chair to the right, then over to the chair at the head. She looked up at Dieter and Allegra, a question in her gaze.

“Oh! Didi, Vega’s right. She’s head of the most senior family, after all, even if she’s the youngest at the table,” Alli said, giggling. 

Vega sat down. She waved her wand. _There are fourteen settings. Who is the extra setting for?_

Dieter counted aloud, “Uroma Theresa, Onkel Robert, and Inge from my side. Zia Berenice, Prozia Helena, and Achille from the Zabinis. Prozio Lukas, Prozio Ignatz, and Zio Levin from the Luxemburgs. Oncle Bertram, and ourselves.” He frowned down at his hands. “That’s only thirteen.”

“Maybe the staff didn’t have time to update the numbers? You only sent the owl last night,” Alli said. She sighed and turned to Vega, “Vega, you clever child. You may have solved where to sit, but what about your poor older cousins?”

“Yes, Vega. We’ve accompanied you all over town, and carried your packages for you. Now you leave us to stand here suffering?” Dieter teased.

Vega blinked up at Dieter and Alli. She sighed, long and suffering. _You’re my right and left hands, are you not? Sit down, you fools._ She waved at the chairs next to her. 

Dieter smiled at Alli. “You heard our liege lady, didn’t you?” He sat down on Vega’s left.

Alli rolled her eyes. “All right, then.” She pulled out the chair on Vega’s right just as the door opened again.

All three teenagers looked up. 

Großonkel Lukas entered, followed by Großonkel Ignatz, Onkel Levin, and Prozia Helena. 

Prozio Lukas smiled widely, and held his arms out. “Vega! Ma chère, viens-toi et m'embrasses!” 

Dieter and Vega had both stood up when the Luxemburgs and Prozia Helena walked in. Vega walked around Alli, her steps quickened until she reached Großonkel Lukas, and the two met in an embrace in the middle of the dining room. 

Großonkel Lukas kissed Vega’s brow, then the top of her head. He pulled away from the embrace and placed his hands on her shoulders. “Although you haven’t got their height, you look just like your grandfather and mother,” he said with a sad smile. He patted her arms and looked her up and down, then over at Dieter and Alli. “Have your cousins been treating you well? If they’ve been picking on you, you should tell me. I’ll take away their pudding rights,” he said.

Vega’s eyes brightened. She nodded vigorously.

Alli gasped, one hand over her breast. “Vega, how could you betray us? For pudding no less!”

Dieter nodded grimly. “At the very least, it should be extra pudding, and then you could split it with us,” he said.

Prozia Helena laughed at Dieter’s joke. “Großmutter Ulrike taught you well, Didi,” she said. “Papa, don’t hog Vega. The rest of us would like to hug her, too.”

Vega was subjected to hugs and kisses from Prozia Helena, Großonkel Ignatz, and Onkel Levin. 

Onkel Levin cried as he hugged Vega. “You look so similar to your mother. She was my favorite cousin,” he said. 

Vega patted his elbow and handed him a handkerchief. 

Onkel Levin took the handkerchief, wiped his face, and blew his nose like a trumpet. He folded up the handkerchief, brows furrowing, then brought the handkerchief back up to his face again and inhaled. “Sandalwood?” 

Vega nodded. 

“You’ll have to let me know where you buy your incense. It’s a very nostalgic smell, and reminds me of halcyon days,” Onkel Levin said.

Vega flicked her wand. Onkel Levin flinched when the flames suddenly appeared. 

_I’ll owl you the incense maker’s information._

“Oh, that’s wicked cool, Vega!”

Everyone in the room turned to the door. Ten year-old Nikolaus de Courtenay stood there, his father Bertram behind him. So Nikolaus was the fourteenth member of the party. What was Oncle Bertram playing at, bringing a young child to a formal family meeting? And when had he contacted the restaurant about the reservation details?

Dieter stared wordlessly at the de Courtenays. That was not the case with Großonkel Lukas.

“What are you doing blocking the doorway, Nikolaus? Come in, come in!”

Nikolaus obeyed the order. Shyly, he walked up to Vega. “Vega? Yīng-Jiějiě?”

Vega caressed his cheek with one hand. _Oui. C’est moi._ _是我_ _。_

Nikolaus threw his arms around Vega, nearly knocking her over. Vega grunted, and returned the fierce hug. Dieter wondered if she saw Ibis’s face in her cousin’s. Both boys had been born in the same year, and both with auburn hair and their grandmother Lang’s facial features.

This time, Vega had to accept a handkerchief. Alli had sidled up to their side and handed hers over. Nikolaus looked nervously at his crying cousin, then Alli, and then his father.

Oncle Bertram came up and hugged Vega and Nikolaus. “Everything will be all right, niece,” he said. Vega wiped her tears and nodded.

“Oh good. We’re not too late,” a familiar voice said.

Dieter’s sister stepped through the doorway. Alli’s brother Achille stepped in after her, one hand on her lower back.

The two were in the midst of hugging Vega when the last of the party, Zia Berenice, Onkel Robert, and Uroma Theresa arrived.

Poor Alli, Dieter thought. He could see her eye twitch every time someone touched Vega’s hair and undid her work little by little.

Finally, those who needed a handkerchief mopped up their faces, and everyone pointed at different chairs and argued and flailed. The conversation, which had been in French, devolved into a mess of French, German, and Italian. Meanwhile, Vega led Großonkel Lukas over to the head of the table, and Dieter led his Uroma over to Großonkel Lukas’s right. She patted his hand, and he winked in response.

Vega sat down opposite Großonkel Lukas, waved little Nikolaus over, and had him sit down to her right. Alli sat down next to Nikolaus, and Dieter sat on Vega’s left, as he had before.

Dieter managed to catch Inge’s eye, who grabbed Achille’s arm and led him over to Dieter’s side of the table. They sat. 

“Papa, come sit down,” Nikolaus called.

Oncle Bertram stopped mid-sentence. Dieter wanted to laugh, but managed to keep a straight face. He could see the wizard calculating where he should sit himself to best advantage. 

Großonkel Lukas took away Oncle Bertram’s choice when he called him over to sit on his right. Großonkel Lukas winked at Dieter when he caught his eye.

Oncle Bertram sat, and everyone else sat down. Dieter was almost impressed. Except for a cluster of wizards, everyone else sat alternating by gender; all the young people sat closer to Vega; and Oncle Bertram looked ambivalent about his seat. On the one hand, the right hand was a place of honor, but considering Dieter had placed his own Uroma there, and she was the eldest person in the room, the left hand was the next best. On the other hand, Vega had filled all the seats next to her, and the ones directly beyond, and so Bertram was sitting far from his niece, and probably unhappy.

“Well,” Großonkel Lukas said. “I think it’s jolly to have all five families together. We should order some fizzy drinks for the aperitif. Champagne for us, Apfelschorle for the children?”

“Do they have Apfelschorle here, Lukas?” Uroma Theresa said.

“I’m sure they have apple juice and water here. If not apple, then surely _some_ kind of juice. We’re not the only family who brings children to dine. Or pregnant women,” Inge said.

“Is there something you need to tell the rest of us, Inge?” Dieter asked mildly.

“No! Don’t even joke about something like that,” his sister said waspishly. “I’m just making an observation.”

“Good,” Uroma Theresa said. “I don’t particularly care for the European term ‘out of wedlock,’ since your Great-great-grandparents raised me to be my own person, but I’d prefer you to be a bit more established before you give me great-great-grandchildren.”

Inge sighed and nodded. She gave Dieter a look that said, _I will get you for this later._

Dieter smiled lazily. He’d noticed Achille’s eyes had widened a little when Dieter had teased Inge. He would talk to father about that during Yule. Or perhaps he would write to tell him.

Großonkel Lukas summoned the waiter, who brought them their menus. Großonkel Lukas was pleased that the kitchen did indeed have apple juice and mineral water. “Butterbeer is too sweet, even for someone with a sweet tooth,” he claimed. “Besides, everyone enjoys good mineral water or a lovely glass of champagne!” 

Uroma Theresa snorted at her brother’s proclamations, and took the wine list away from her brother. “We can’t eat every course with champagne, Lukas. Wait until we know what everyone is eating before you order too much to drink,” she said.

While the waiter went to fetch the sommelier and Apfelschorle, everyone told Großonkel Lukas what they wanted to order. He gave the full order to the waiter, and Uroma Theresa told the sommelier, who was opening the champagne for them, which wines she wanted paired with which plates, with the exception of Nikolaus.

“Of course, Madame. For the petit monsieur, I will change up his juice flavor, too. He should get to enjoy the marriage of food and drink as much as any other diner here at Fabien’s,” the sommelier declared.

“Don’t worry, Nikolaus. You ordered all the same dishes as Didi and I. You can have one sip of wine per course,” Alli whispered to Nikolaus.

Uroma Theresa must have gotten her hearing from Uroma Ulrike. “Allegra, it’s good to teach your cousin about wine and food, but you should ask your Oncle if it’s permitted first, dear,” she said.

Alli blushed. “Of course. Oncle Bertram, is it all right if Nikolaus has a taste of our wine with each course?”

Oncle Bertram waved a hand dismissively. 

Uroma Theresa spoke again. “Bertram, while I’m very glad to see Nikolaus, I have to wonder why you brought him here today? He is a little young to be attending a formal family meeting, is he not?”

Oncle Bertram sniffed. “I thought that he should experience one. Get his feet wet, as it were. What better way than the first proper one in six years? Besides, he wanted dearly to see Vega,” he said.

“I’m surprised you were able to leave France,” Zia Berenice said. “However did you manage it?”

Once Bertram smiled sharply. “That’s for me to know, and you to find out, isn’t it, dear cousin?”

Zia Berenice’s face did not change. Dieter was impressed despite already knowing just how formidable his aunt was. 

“Dear Bertram, you have changed for the better,” she said. “It is better that we do not all know each other’s secrets and the same information. We are all less likely to accidentally betray the Langs, this way.”

The sommelier and a server ended the short-lived battle of wits between Zia Berenice and Oncle Bertram. The man wiggled a cork out of the champagne bottle with a pop. He made to pour it into Großonkel Lukas’s glass, but was diverted to pour into Uroma Theresa’s glass instead. Uroma Theresa tasted the vintage, nodded assent, and the sommelier filled her glass up before handing off the bottle to the server. He produced a second bottle, which he sabered, insisting it was “for the sake of the boy!” Nikolaus was appropriately entertained by the sword and the gush of champagne which gushed out into Vega’s coupe. Vega, in turn, was amused by Nikolaus’s joy. She tasted the champagne before allowing Nikolaus a sip. Afterwards, Nikolaus was served Apfelschorle, also in a coupe so that he could “properly enjoy the bubbles and the fragrance of Muscadet de Dieppe!”

The servers came back as the sommelier and assisting server finished pouring their drinks. The meal progressed relatively peacefully. Nikolaus and Inge asked Vega what Beauxbatons was like, which she answered until Prozia Helena told them to let Vega eat. So the adults talked amongst themselves about current affairs, the state of the Ministère, what the ICW and the Ministère were doing, the investigation at Beauxbatons. Dieter was asked about what he planned to do once he graduated, which he answered evasively, saying he had to wait to see what his NEWT scores looked like before he divulged his plans. His Uroma gave him a look, but Dieter had no concrete plans yet, and he had a feeling besides, that he would be engaged in facilitating Vega’s vengeance for the foreseeable future. The next few years, at least. That would mean he had to think about careers which would be helpful to that endeavor. Alli was not so shy about saying that she wanted to become a potioneer, and do research, which the adults expressed approval over, though Oncle Bertram made a remark to Zia Berenice that she should also think about training Alli to follow in the steps of the family matriarch, and teach her how to navigate the political or legal world. Prozia Helena had answered for her daughter instead, saying that there were many daughters born of the female lineage, and sixteen was still too young to decide if Alli’s disposition suited politicking. So. Everything was quite normal. It was like nearly any other formal family meeting sans the Langs. Dieter thought that it was rather ironic that Vega’s lack of voice actually allowed her an advantage in this regard at meals. 

They were on the fourth course when Prozia Helena addressed Vega. “Vega, my dear, have you embraced Buddhism like your grandmother? I see you ordered only vegetarian courses,” Prozia Helena said.

Vega flicked her wand. _No, Prozia Helena. It’s not because of religion that I eat little to no meat. I simply can’t stand the smell of cooked meat._

Oncle Bertram frowned. “What do you mean, Vega? You ate anything we fed you when you were young,” he said.

Dieter saw Vega glance at Nikolaus briefly before her gaze returned to her uncle. _Ah-bu and Ah-ma’s funerals put me off meat for a long time. I do eat poultry or fish once a week to ensure I get enough nutrition. I eat eggs regularly, too. I cannot stand the smell and taste of anything with four legs, however. Pork, beef, and mutton are especially bad._

Everyone other than Vega and Nikolaus’s expressions sobered. Vega’s stayed neutral, and Nikolaus’s confused.

Oncle Bertram’s face twisted. “I’m sorry you still suffer from your mother and grandmother’s deaths. Are you telling us … that you burned your grandmother?” he asked, his voice cold.

Vega sipped from her wine glass. _This is a good vintage, Uroma Theresa. Viognier, is it?_ She set her glass back down. _Yes. I took Leda to the Wyns first, to find our cousins. Their house, too, was burnt. I soon realized that the Ips and the Kaos were also dead or in hiding. So I went west to Yunnan to find my father’s family. I was almost there when the earthquake hit._

Vega paused. She drank from her water glass this time. Then lifted her wand again.

 _I knew what the earthquake meant. I knew the Western families had suffered the same fate as mine. Someone with resources, someone who was trusted by at least one March Lady, had betrayed us all. I went to Yunnan anyway. They were all gone. My only choice at that point, was to search for Ah-ma, who had left the Central Kingdom to investigate_ _Grand-_ _père’s death._

_So I went to Tibet, where the temple allowed me the use of their floo. I went to Ah-ma’s friends’ homes, and was able to discern where she had last been seen. Eventually, I was referred to the muggle-liason office within the Auror corps of Dhaka. The auror who found her helped me build her pyre. I summoned the ancestor for her._

“You burned her with her talisman?” Oncle Bertram pressed.

Dieter could see all the other adults frowning. This was not the proper time or place to be asking about Vega’s flight and traumatic experiences. 

Vega’s face remained impassive, though, and her body language relaxed. _No. Someone had taken it, or it was washed away in the Buriganga. I burned my own talisman._

Oncle Bertram jumped up from his seat. “YOU WHAT!?” 

“Bertram, that is _enough_ . Sit down, young man. You _do not_ have the right to question Vega like this, nor should you be shouting at her,” Großonkel Lukas said, face stern and eyes blazing. His voice did not rise in volume.

Nikolaus had hunched over during his father’s outburst, Dieter noticed. Alli was rubbing his back soothingly. 

Oncle Bertram’s chest was heaving. He looked about the table, most definitely noting the disapproval from most of his family members. He smoothed his robes before sitting down again. “I apologize for shouting, Vega. I was just so shocked to hear what you had done. You’re the true heir, the Duchess of Vermillion, after all! How could you have burned your own talisman? How will your children or family bury you properly?” he asked in a wheedling voice.

Dieter heard Alli snort softly. He agreed. Oncle Bertram was treating Vega like a foolish young child. Also, he clearly didn’t know how to speak to children, neither his own nor those of his relatives.

Someone knocked on the door, and two servers walked in, plates stacked on their arms with great skill, looking like stairways built into their arms. They set down the fifth course. The sommelier followed. 

After the restaurant staff left, Großonkel Lukas addressed Oncle Bertram’s invasive question. “Bertram, it was Vega’s talisman to burn. If the ancestor was willing to accept it, then it is no one else’s business if she burnt it. Besides, you should be proud of what she was willing to do in order to ensure your mother was properly sent to the afterlife,” Großonkel Lukas said. He addressed Vega, “I am proud of what you did, Lán Yīng.”

Uroma Theresa spoke up as well. “Yes, Lán Yīng. I am proud of you, too. Your Grand-père would also be proud.”

Vega pressed her lips together. Dieter could see the shine in her eyes, but she held her tears in. _Thank you,_ _Großonkel Lukas._

“Besides, Bertram, we ought not to think about Vega’s funeral,” Onkel Robert said. “We hope each generation will outlive the previous one, after all. However, should it really be necessary for us to arrange her funeral, we can use Ah-gong’s wand. He asked to be cremated without it, and perhaps this is the reason?”

Zia Berenice asked Großonkel Lukas, “Nonno, did Ah-gong ever explain why he wasn’t to be given full funeral rites according to Southern Cardinal family traditions?”

Großonkel Lukas looked over at Uroma Theresa. “ _Did_ our father ever explain why?”

Uroma Theresa looked thoughtful. “He said a seer told him it was best to put off his funeral rites,” she said.

“Yes, it was odd. Our father asked for his ashes to be interred in the Luxemburg mausoleum. He said we would know when the time was right to return the relic in his wand to the ancestor,” Großonkel Lukas said.

Inge smiled widely. “Well, then it sounds like Vega will be able to go to the afterlife properly, after all, eh, Oncle Bertram?” 

Oncle Bertram stared coldly at Inge. “Yes,” he said. He turned back to address Vega again, his tone noticeably warmer. “Vega, dear child, we must make preparations for you and Leda to move to Courtenay. Your Tante Alix has been choosing linens and furniture for the two of you. Bernadette has been beside herself with excitement! She has been telling us of all the activities she plans to do once you and Leda come to stay. She’s always wanted sisters.” 

Vega set her utensils down to answer her uncle. _I’m afraid we will have to refuse your invitation to come stay with you, Oncle. It’s very gracious and kind, but Leda and I are happy where we are. It’s been her home for the majority of her life at this point, and the house is under the Fidelius Charm and other protections which would not be available to us should we move._

“Nonsense, Vega!” Oncle Bertram said with a wide smile, though Dieter could detect a tiny bit of strain in his voice. “You and Leda are my sister’s children. It is my duty to protect you. Speaking of which, you still haven’t shared with us who you have been staying with, nor where that is?”

 _No, Oncle. I haven’t shared that information because it is under Fidelius, as I just said. I cannot share it because I am not the Secret Keeper._ Vega picked up her glass and finished the glass. Dieter refilled it for her. He looked down the table. Großonkel Lukas and Uroma Theresa were eating and drinking with neutral expressions. Onkel Robert looked mildly interested. Prozia Helena and Zia Berenice were smiling a little. Inge and Achille were … playing footsie? Alli was trying to assure Nikolaus, who seemed very worried. Prozio Ignatz and Zio Levin looked concerned, but the former was watching Oncle Bertram, and the latter Vega.

“Well then, nevermind that,” Oncle Bertram said, waving a hand. He drank from his glass before continuing. “You and Leda still need to come to Courtenay to live. Your protection and education are paramount. Leda, especially must be quite lonely with you attending school away from home, no? As Baroness Lang and third in line to the seat of Courtenay--through her son, of course, if none of my children or you bear sons--she must be taught how to run a household, and how to navigate the intricacies of French government.”

Vega set her wine down. _Oncle Bertram. I assure you Leda is getting the proper education befitting her station. Headmistress McGonagall has sent you a copy of my school records from Beauxbatons, has she not? Is my performance inadequate?_

Dieter saw Zia Berenice smile with teeth. Prozia Helena barely repressed a huff of laughter. Alli had stopped rubbing Nikolaus’s back to share a grin with Dieter. Nikolaus who saw this, seemed to calm a little. His shoulders became less tense, and he started eating again.

Oncle Bertram shook his head and said, “No, of course not, Vega. Your grades are stellar! However, you were under the tutelage of your mother and mine for most of your formative childhood, whereas Leda was but a babe when they passed away. If your home is under Fidelius, then I’m sure you aren’t able to engage tutors for her when you’re away for school. In any case, even if you are teaching Leda during your breaks, you’re still a child yourself. Also, who is it that is watching over Leda while you’re away? Are they capable of teaching her rudimentary magic and how to hone her fire?”

Alli gave Vega a pointed look. Vega caught it and raised her eyebrows, then nodded.

Alli spoke. “Oncle Bertram, maybe you’re unaware because Vega spent more time with, well, us children who were her age rather than adults. However, Vega was performing wandless magic with intention and purpose since … oh, as young as five or six years old. So she is more than qualified to teach Leda foundational knowledge. I’ve seen letters from Leda to Vega written in Chinese and French, too, so clearly Vega was able to teach Leda not only how to write, but also how to speak multiple languages despite being mute. If she and their guardian can manage that, then I believe Leda is in adequate, if not the best care.”

Oncle Bertram laughed. “Oh Allegra, don’t be ridiculous. Wandless magic at five or six? That’s just accidental magic,” he said.

Achille chimed in to support his younger sister’s statement. “No, Oncle Bertram. It’s true. Don’t you remember the time Vega slapped a handful of horse manure on my face at the Courtenay stables? Inge and I,” he said, setting one hand on Inge’s elbow, “didn’t push Vega and Alli into a pile of horse manure for a laugh--well, we did, but it was also for revenge.”

Inge finished the story for Achille. “No, we pushed them into horse manure because Vega had somehow managed to trap us in a mud puddle. She was able to use Achille’s and my water affinities against us, by making a charmed trap which would activate when we came across it. The ground was solid earth until we tripped the charm,” she said.

Oncle Bertram looked displeased. “I’ve only the word of three children of what allegedly happened a decade or so ago. I am still convinced that I would be the best guardian for Vega and Leda. They are after all, my sister’s heirs and vitally important to the magical ecosystem in the Central Kingdom, and indirectly, the global ecosystem,” he said. 

Zia Berenice looked affronted. “Bertram, are you calling my children liars?”

Onkel Robert added, “And my brother’s daughter?”

Oncle Bertram’s face flushed red. “No, no. I’m just saying that their memories may not be as reliable as they think. I never saw any indication of great magic from Vega when she was a young child. Nor since we walked into Fabien’s today,” he said. He grabbed his wine and quaffed it. 

Uroma Theresa raised an eyebrow and chided him. “Bertram, sip your wine. Otherwise you won’t enjoy it,” she said. 

Großonkel Lukas reached over and refilled Oncle Bertram’s glass. “Yes, listen to your Großtante. She is an expert on fine drink,” he said.

Vega had taken the opportunity to eat a little during this interlude. She set her utensils down again to pick up her wand. _Oncle Bertram,_ She smiled but it did not reach her eyes. _You claim that Leda is Baroness Lang, and she is third in line to your seat of power._

“Yes, that’s what I have been saying this entire time. She is a valuable heiress of an ancient bloodline, and must be protected at all costs!” Oncle Bertram asserted.

_Oncle Bertram. Who is the current March Lady Lang of the South?_

Oncle Bertram paused. “Why, you are, of course, dear niece.”

Dieter noticed Großonkel Lukas and Uroma Theresa were smiling now. Zia Berenice was grinning, and Prozio Ignatz was looking worriedly between Oncle Bertram and Vega again.

Vega set her wand down on the table. She picked up her wine glass in one hand, and snapped the fingers of her other hand. _And what exactly is the relation between the March Lady Lang and Baroness Lang?_

Dieter was unsurprised. Großonkel Lukas was smiling with fierce pride, as were Alli and Zia Berenice. Nikolaus’s mouth was open, and he stared at Vega with awe and wonder. Most of the table, in fact, had reacted like Nikolaus.

Dieter held his breath in anticipation.

Oncle Bertram recovered from his shock. His face twisted. He looked like he had swallowed quinine. “Baroness Lang is the courtesy title of the heir to the March Lady Lang,” he said.

 _Yes, it is._ Vega smiled gently at her uncle. _Have I done such a poor job of protecting my heir that you would seek to take her from my care, Oncle Bertram?_

Oncle Bertram opened his mouth, then snapped it shut. Then again. “No my dear,” he said, puffing his chest out. “It’s simply that we have only your word that she is alive and well! We believe you, of course, but she is still so young -- you are still young, and still in your minority, as well! We only want what is best for both of you. As an extended family, whose political power is vast and respected in this continent, surely we can offer more secure protection for both of you, in addition to the best care possible. I’m sure you’ve done adequately, Yīng, but we can do even more as a family!”

Vega did not snap her fingers this time. She had set her wine down, and picked up her utensils. Her words still appeared, nevertheless. Dieter noticed her fingers wiggle a little around her grip on her knife. _Oncle Bertram, if the family did not know if Leda and I were alive for the last six years, what difference does it make if you know now?_ Vega ate a bite of beetroot salad.

“It makes all the difference!” Oncle Bertram cried.

Großonkel Lukas coughed. Oncle Bertram glanced at him, then back at Vega. “It makes all the difference,” he said again, this time without shouting. “Now that we know you are alive and well, we wouldn't be able to sleep at night unless we knew you were in good care,” he said.

Vega kept eating from her plate. _Oncle Bertram. That makes no sense. You were able to sleep when you didn’t know where we were or if we were even alive. Now that you know we are alive, you cannot sleep well at night?_

Achille snorted into his wine. Inge slapped his back, and Achille started coughing. Dieter caught a partial eye roll from Alli. The other adults were all smiling in various degrees of amusement. Even Nikolaus looked like he was trying to repress a smile. Dieter could see his jaw was clenched, but a dimple had appeared in one cheek.

Oncle Bertram’s mouth was open. He snapped it closed. Drained his wineglass--again, and again, Uroma Theresa chastised him while Großonkel Lukas refilled his glass.

Finally, Oncle Bertram seemed to get his bearings. "Yīng, I haven’t slept well at all since your Grand-père passed away.”

Vega raised her brows. She looked up from her plate to regard her uncle. _Is that so? Is that why you haven’t had the energy to make an effort to help search for his remains? Or your mother’s?_

“It wasn’t safe for me to go anywhere near the Central Kingdom during the Arsonist Summer!” Oncle Bertram exclaimed. “I, too, was presented to the Vermillion Bird, and I had to think about my family’s safety and legacy!”

Vega set her utensils down. She daintily wiped her mouth with her napkin. _It’s all right, Oncle Bertram. I was able to take the time to find Ah-ma’s whereabouts and give her a proper funeral before I left Asia. That’s why,_ Vega picked up her wine to sip. _you needn’t worry about Leda and I. I’m perfectly able to protect us both, in addition to searching for Ibis’s whereabouts and helping our ancestor with his duties in the Central Kingdom._

Dieter was trying very hard not to laugh.

Großonkel Lukas didn’t care to hide his mirth. He laughed loudly and from the belly. He even wiped a tear from his eye. “Well said, Vega! As head of the Luxemburg family, I approve of your actions. You’ve done well for yourself and your sister. I will help you reconnect with Celandine and Ari’s European acquaintances and friends, in addition to helping you execute any legal and financial matters. For quotidian matters, continue as you have!”

Großonkel Lukas clapped Oncle Bertram on the shoulder, cutting him off. “Bertram, your niece was as good as emancipated once your sister and brother-in-law died, and your mother was confirmed dead. She’s doing just fine. Until she asks for our help, we should trust her to do well with her own care and that of her heir.”

Oncle Bertram looked furious. He opened his mouth, but was interrupted by a knock on the door.

A waiter pushed the cheese trolley in. She was followed by the sommelier. “Messieurs et mesdames. Which cheeses would you like to partake in today?” she asked cheerfully.

Großonkel Lukas and Uroma Theresa made their selections, and the sommelier conferred on another two vintages with Uroma Theresa. The cheese was served, and the wine was poured. Dieter wondered if Alli had prepared any sober-up potion. Normally when they were at home, they drank with their meals, so formal meals and the large quantities of drink that they accompanied were no issue, but during the school year, this quantity of wine was sure to give them all a hangover by evening. He looked over at Vega. She wasn’t flushed, and her movements were still graceful. She was only five feet three or four, and no more than eight stone, but she’d had just as much wine as anyone else at the table. Well, maybe not as much as Oncle Bertram.

The waiter and sommelier left the room. Großonkel Lukas patted Oncle Bertram’s arm and asked, “What was it you wanted to say, Bertram?”

Oncle Bertram shook his head. “Nothing. I see my opinion isn’t valued here,” he said.

Vega had a fresh glass of wine in one hand, and a morsel of cheese in the other hand. _Oncle Bertram? There is one thing I need to request of you._

Oncle Bertram looked equal parts anxious and excited. “Yes, dear niece?”

Vega nibbled her cheese. _Please do not call me by so intimate an appellation. Only Ah-ma ever called me Yīng._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonjour. Trois personnes? Ou, avez-vous une reservation? = Good day. Three people? Or, do you have a reservation?
> 
> Oui, nous l’avons. C’est Luxemburg. = Yes, we have one. It’s [under] Luxemburg.
> 
> Ah oui, Luxemburg! Suivez-moi, s’il-vous-plait. = Ah yes, Luxemburg! Follow me, please.
> 
> Vega! Ma chère, viens-toi et m'embrasses! = Vega! My dear, come and give me a hug!
> 
> When Dieter, Allegra, and Vega are together, they use French, Italian, and/or German. Since they’re family and comfortable with each other, they code switch a lot. In other words, they switch between languages whenever it suits them. They speak French to the waitstaff at Fabien’s because it’s a really nice place, and the employees enjoy being able to speak French. Then Lukas and co. arrive, and Lukas speaks French to Vega when he greets her.
> 
> 鷹姊姊 - Yīng Jiějiě. Yīng means eagle. Jiějiě is an honorific, and what people call their older sisters and female cousins. In many East Asian cultures, you do not call anyone older than you by name. It’s disrespectful. Also, calling them by ONLY their given (sans surname, which comes first), is something only familiar people should do. It can be very personal and different for every person you know. For instance, only my grandfather ever called my father by his given name alone. After he died, no one else did the same, and my father doesn’t like it much. Living in a Western country is difficult for him in that sense, because everyone just calls him by “first” name, and he feels it’s overly familiar.
> 
> That’s right, guys! Vega’s full name is 藍鷹 (Lán Yīng), in other words “Blue Eagle”! I know. That was one of the reasons I didn’t want to put her in Ravenclaw even though I had originally conceptualized her as a Ravenclaw. It was just too much. But she didn't suit Gryffindor, so I put her back in Ravenclaw. It’s why Fidelma was so amused when Vega was sorted.
> 
> 是我 - It’s me (Shì wǒ). Originally, I was going to write this as the English Romanization as you see in the parentheses. However, Vega doesn’t speak. She writes, and people have to read what she conjures in flame. So whereas when Nikolaus calls her by her Chinese given name and an honorific, which people would hear, and therefore I’ve rendered in Mainland Chinese PinYin phonetics, Vega’s communication is still in Chinese.
> 
> Ah-bu = mother in Minnan dialect (all the other Romanizations above are Mandarin dialect). I know I just said Vega doesn’t speak, she writes, but honestly, any approximation of a dialect other than Mandarin to Chinese would make me unhappy because I wouldn’t know what characters to choose. Some of the sounds just don’t correspond to characters. There are also different numbers of tones in each dialect. So Vega writes these familial terms in Latin alphabet phonetics.
> 
> Ah-ma = grandmother in Minnan dialect
> 
> Ah-gong = grandfather (Ya Wyn is Robert de Stauf’s great-grandfather, but his own grandfathers are European, so it’s not like he really needed to call him a different term than his father does).
> 
> Apfelschorle - A German beverage. It’s apple juice and carbonated mineral water. So sparkling apple juice, but slightly watered down. The Germans, and in general, the continental Europeans are a bit fizzy water crazy. Or, “water with gas,” as many would call it.
> 
> Muscadet de Dieppe - an apple cultivar originating in Normandy, France. Commonly used to make Calvados. The truth is, ten year old Nikolaus’s Apfelschorle was made not with apple juice and mineral water, but French cider and mineral water. In other words, it was slightly alcoholic, but certainly not as strong as champagne or wine. *laughs*
> 
> French Meal courses - This is a formal meal with 7 courses. Yes, I know. It’s a lot, but they are old money, and they can afford it. Plus, Lukas and Theresa want to spoil Vega. These are the courses: L’apéritif, l’entrée, fish, plat principal, salade, cheese, dessert. However, Fabien’s is a good restaurant, and they will cater to non-meat eaters. Their menu typically has 2-3 choices per course, and Vega chose all vegetarian dishes. For the “fish” course, she had their mushroom pot-au-feu instead of the seafood-pot-au-feu.
> 
> Character Introductions:
> 
> Vivian Wensleydale - Ravenclaw, Head Boy. Pureblood. He’s best friends with Dieter. He’s very no-nonsense. Guys, I promise, Vivian is a male name originally. It’s one of those “old-fashioned” names which has become a more commonly female one. I had a professor, very old-school, in his seventies, and Anglophone Canadian, whose first name was Vivian. The other professors and staff called him “Viv.” I thought it was charming, and very British. The Wensleydales are old money, so I gave their eldest an old-fashioned name. He has three siblings. One of them was mentioned back in chapter 6. Geoffrey, a sixth year Slytherin prefect.


	10. In which everyone celebrates a birthday, drink and eat together, and new friends are made

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I initially started to write a chapter in Vega's sister Leda's POV, but due to Finals and health problems, I stopped writing for a while. Then I wrote ... well, what you see below. So we're still at Hogwarts, but I thought it would be nice to lighten the atmosphere after a serious chapter where so much went down. It's not entirely fluff, though? People meet, interact, and party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: there is "underage" drinking in this chapter. Let's be real, though. Butterbeer is mildly alchoholic, so I'm guessing ... 3%? Beer was considered a "soft drink," once upon a time, too. My father doesn't consider anything below 5% to be alcohol, actually, which I find hilarious in this day and age. But if it's 7%, it's too strong for beer. He's very picky about his beer ABV? I've been influenced by him, though. Anything below 7% is a soft drink in my book. 
> 
> Besides, my dad and aunt taught me how to drink before I went off to university. That's one way to make sure your kids don't drink like a fish at school--you give them the good stuff, and when they're offered swill by enthusiastic drinkers with no taste, your kiddos will turn their noses up at it. That's what happened to me, anyway. For me, if it doesn't taste good, I'm not drinking or eating it. Personally, I've never drank with the goal of getting drunk, so I honestly don't get what the big deal is. I've always been resistant to peer pressure, though. So ...
> 
> All things considered, I changed some of what I'd written before posting this chapter. Thank goodness I slept on it first. Mainly, I've made it less ambiguous what the younger kiddos are drinking. Oh, shoot. I just realized this warning is late. Vega's cute younger cousin Nikolaus got to try all the vintages served at that intense lunch. Although, he did get permission from his father, who was present. Okay. I guess this warning is for portrayals of minors drinking without parental/guardian supervision. There are some adults present, techinically (6th and 7th years), but now we're splitting hairs.
> 
> Anyways. This warning is here because some people might be offended by the portrayal of minors drinking. So if you are one of those people, don't read this chapter. Or if you do, skip the part with the party.
> 
> See end note for drink and food descriptions, definitions, and if relevant, their alcohol content.
> 
> Also, now that I've finished the chapter, after editing it for its content for the third time, I realize it's a character dumping ground. A lot of new characters are introduced. Some are Weasley-Potter cousins, and many have canon family names, but ... I will introduce them all at the end. I'm sorry, but I couldn't stand to re-write the chapter a fourth time. It's done.

_ Sunday, midmorning _

_ Molly Weasley _

Molly woke up disoriented. She blindly patted her bedside table until she grasped her watch. She rolled onto her back, and squinted up at it. Nine fifty-two. She sighed and dropped her arms. 

She rolled over to bury her face in her pillow.

  
  
  


Molly woke up with a start. She searched her bed for her watch for a few seconds before exhaling sharply and grabbing her wand to summon it. Eleven thirteen. 

She jerked her curtains aside and sprang from her bed, startling Willia, who jerked her arm. Vega, who sat next to her, suffered the spray of ink which splattered from Willia’s quill. 

Willia stood up immediately. “Oh dear, oh dear! I’m so sorry, Vega!” she cried, hands waving manically.

Molly sighed. She grabbed a handkerchief from her bedside table, and walked over to the two girls. She pushed Willia back into her chair, and turned around to give the handkerchief to Vega.

Vega took it with a grateful nod. She walked over to the tall mirror hung next to the door to the bathroom. She wet the handkerchief with a quick controlled spurt of water from her wand before wiping the ink from her face and neck. 

She returned to Willia’s desk.  _ Thank you, Molly. I’ll get you a new one. _

Molly shook her head. “It’s fine. I’ve plenty.”

Molly walked over to her wardrobe to dress for the day. What was left of it, anyway.

While she pulled a dress over her head, Molly asked, “What are the two of you up to?”

“Vega’s helping me with Runes,” Willia said. “Makes me wish I’d learnt other languages before I came to Hogwarts.”

“Other than Latin?” Molly asked. She pulled on a pair of patterned tights, hopping to correct her balance.

“Well, my Latin isn’t great, but I can read it now,” Willia said. “Vega knows a lot more than just Latin, English, and French, though!”

Molly grabbed her shoes before turning around to look at her dorm mates.

_ Don’t be so humble, Willia.  _ Vega turned to Molly.  _ Her Italian is good, and her German is not bad, yes? _

Molly nodded. “You’ve learnt more languages in the past four years than I did in childhood, Willia.” She pulled a robe on.

“Where are you in a rush to, Molly?” Willia asked. 

“I was supposed to eat breakfast with all my cousins,” she said. She walked over to the full length mirror, French comb in one hand and several hair pins in the other. 

“Breakfast is over, though?” Willia said.

“I know that, Willia. I don’t know why Lucy didn’t come wake me. Oh dear, oh dear. Roxanne will gut me if I don’t apologize and visit the kitchens with her or something,” she said. She blew a curl out of her face, hands still busy twisting the rest of her hair up. 

She pulled the sliding comb out of her hair. She shook her hair loose again. 

She tried again, but the comb popped right out, dropping onto the ground. Molly clapped her palm to her face and sighed loudly.

A hand touched her arm. Molly opened her eyes to look. Vega had picked her comb up from the ground and held it before Molly.

_ May I? _

Molly studied Vega’s neatly coiffed hair. “Sure. You look like you know how to deal with curly hair.”

Vega nodded. She grabbed a chair and set it in front of the mirror. Sit down. I can’t reach otherwise.

Molly sat down. She frowned at Vega in the mirror. “How tall are you, Vega?”

Vega waved her wand.  _ I am one hundred fifty-eight centimeters. How would you like your hair? French twist? Chignon? Braided and then put up? Half up half down?  _

Molly twisted around in her chair. She looked up at Vega’s words. “Did you make mirrored words?”

Vega’s eyes crinkled with mirth.  _ It isn’t hard. It’s the same as communicating with someone situated behind me.  _

“Right,” Molly said, chuckling as she turned back around to face the mirror. “Could you do something like yours? Braided and put up? But not the exact same,” she said.

_ Of course. You can keep talking if you like while I do your hair. You have a lovely voice.  _

Molly blushed. She watched Vega stow her wand in her sleeve. Gentle hands gathered Molly’s hair away from her face.

“Are you sure you’re only … hmm, what is that, five feet two? You look taller,” Molly said. 

Willia chimed in. Molly could see her in the background of the mirror. “Doesn’t she? I thought she was at least five feet five, five feet six.”

Molly started to nod, but remembered Vega was doing her hair. “I thought so too.”

“Did you grow again, Molly?” Willia asked. Molly watched the blond girl walk over and sit on the unclaimed bed, which was closest to Molly and Vega. 

Molly sighed. “I think so. I had growing pains this Summer. I had to get new robes again, too. The old ones were too short.”

Willia and Molly both watched with interest as Vega tied off a Dutch braid, and started on another. 

“How tall are you now?” Willia asked. She shucked her shoes and brought her feet up onto the bed.

“I think around five feet eight,” Molly said. “I’m the tallest of the girls now,” she said.

“Isn’t Roxanne pretty close to your height, though?” Willia asked. She had settled herself onto her stomach, and supported her chin on her arms. “Roxanne Weasley,” Willia said in response to Vega’s raised brow, “is one of Molly’s cousins.”

Vega nodded once, hands never stopping.

“Well, Molly?” Willia said.

“Roxanne stopped growing last year. She’s five feet seven. She was taller last year, and now I’m taller,” Molly said in response.

Vega finished the second dutch braid. She started to twist one of the braids upward into a bun.

“Well, Alexander is pretty tall, isn’t he?” Willia asked. 

Molly exhaled angrily. “Why does everyone think I’m interested in him? I didn’t even know he’d been courting me until two days ago!”

“How did you not notice? Even I noticed,” Willia said. 

“He didn’t really change his behavior toward me. Not that I noticed,” Molly said, crossing her arms.

“That’s because all you care about are your grades and your sister. You should have at least noticed when he started holding his arm out to you,” Willia said. “Or when he carries your books or packages.”

“He’s been holding my books since first year!” Molly said hotly. “So when he started offering his arm in third year, I thought he was just increasing his formality because he was older!”

“Riiight,” Willia said. “What about when he started giving you flowers?”

“I checked de la Tour, and they were all platonic feelings or regular messages between friends,” Molly said.

“You don’t think he’s fit, though, Molly?” Willia asked, changing the subject.

Vega was pinning the last of Molly’s hair up. She smiled and snuffled a laugh. Willia winked at her in the mirror.

Molly sighed, exasperated. “Not you too, Vega! I was hoping you wouldn’t be another boy-crazy dorm mate. I need someone sensible to keep me sane,” she said.

Vega just continued to smile as she strategically set the French comb into Molly’s hair. She brought both hands up, as if to say “All done!”

Molly turned her head side to side, marveling at Vega’s work. “Thank you so much, Vega. I’ll have to ask you to show me how to braid at some point.”

Willia bounced off the bed. “You don’t know how to braid, Molly?”

Molly shook her head. “No, my mother never knew how to deal with my curls, so it was usually just put up in a bun. At most, if it was behaving, we’d twist it up,” she said. “How did you get it to behave, Vega?”

Vega gestured at her own hair.  _ I have had plenty of practice. Your curl pattern isn’t that much tighter than mine. The volume and  _

Vega stopped, tapping her finger against her lip.  _ The volume and the gravity defying hairs are about the same, though. I also coated my hands with a bit of conditioner before I started braiding. _

“Well, thank you,” Molly said. She picked the chair up to return it to its place. “I’ve got to run. Have to catch up with my cousins. Cheers!” 

Molly started towards the door, but was yanked back. “What is it, Willia?” She straightened her clothes grumpily.

“You know what today is, don’t you?” Willia asked.

“Of course I do. It’s Sunday,” Molly said. 

“What about the date?” Willia asked.

“It’s the 18th,” Molly answered. 

“Of?” 

Molly blinked. “Oh. Ohhh.” She inhaled slowly and closed her eyes. 

Vega must have asked a question because Willia said, “It’s Molly’s birthday.”

Molly could hear the smile in Willia’s voice. She exhaled before opening her eyes again. “Is that why Lucy didn’t wake me up?”

“Well, she and Lily came in to peek at you, but Lucy told us to let you keep sleeping,” Willia said. 

“Where’s Sabrina?” Molly asked. 

“She left with Lucy and Lily to go help with your party,” Willia said, smiling wickedly.

Molly raised an eyebrow. “She went willingly? Sabrina? The Beauty Queen who needs her rest?”

Willia and Vega both laughed. Willia uproariously, bending over holding her stomach. Vega was more restrained, but just barely. Molly wondered if her new dorm mate had a more robust sense of humor than she initially believed.

Willia wiped a tear from one eye. “Of course not! I was already up and working with Vega on my essay, so Lucy let us stay to calm you down when you inevitably woke up and freaked out. Sabrina was volun-told to go help. Lily poked her and Lucy all but jumped on Sabrina’s bed.”

“Volun-told?” Molly repeated.

“Your sister and Lily’s new word of the week,” Willia said gravely.

Molly shook her head. “Who’s coming? And where is the party?”

“Fred and Roxanne commandeered an unused classroom on the fourth floor,” Willia said. She checked her watch. “The party starts at noon. We have another half hour before we need to leave.”

Molly turned to Vega. “If no one has issued an invitation yet, won’t you come to my birthday party, Vega?”

Vega looked surprised.  _ Me? _

“Yes, you, you miracle hairdresser. Is there anything you’re not good at?” Molly teased.

Vega tapped her finger against her lip. She waved her wand.  _ I can’t really swim. I can float and tread water, but I can’t swim. _

Molly blinked. “That’s a bit odd, but at least you won’t drown,” she said. “Anyway. Will you come?”

Vega looked like she was thinking hard about something.

“It’s not exclusive, Vega,” Willia said, settling an arm around Vega’s shoulders. “It’s a big party, and Molly doesn’t expect presents. Not even from her cousins or sister. Most of us just get her books or stationary, if at all. She just enjoys spending time with her cousins and friends. All of the Weasley-Potter cousins love the chaos of a good party.”

Vega still did not answer.

“Most of Ravenclaw is coming. Boot usually drags Nicolay and Winchester along. You’re welcome to invite your cousins or anyone else you like,” Molly said.

Vega shook her head.  _ That’s not what I was thinking about, Molly. I’ll come though, and I’ll invite Dieter and Allegra. Thank you. _

Molly smiled back at her. “Of course. You just performed some sort of miracle with my hair. You’re probably my favorite person in this dorm now. How could I not invite you?”

Willia gasped. “I thought I was your favorite! How could you be so mercenary, Molly?”

Molly ignored Willia’s dramatics. “Willia, can you go see if Nicolay or one of his friends is in the common room? Let them know Vega is going to my party?”

“Sure!” Willia said. She went to her trunk and rummaged around. She looked up and hissed at Molly. “Don’t look! It’s a surprise.”

Molly sighed. She shut her eyes and turned her back to Willia. “The things I do for England,” she said.

She heard what might have been a giggle from Vega. It was just three soft, short, and swift exhales.

“All done!” Willia said. Molly opened her eyes and turned back around.

“All right, so I’ll see you at the party!” Willia skipped toward the door.

“Wait, Willia!” Molly cried.

Willia stopped, hand on the door knob. “What?”

“We don’t know where the party is,” Molly said.

“Oh, right. It’s on the fourth floor, near that one staircase that likes to turn into a slide,” Willia said.

Molly squinted at her.

“By the place where Peeves likes to throw water balloons?” Willia added.

Molly looked at her with dead fish eyes.

“The corridor where your cousin Louis--”

Molly interrupted her, “You’re absolute rubbish at giving directions. Go. I’ll ask Alexander.”

“Ooh~” Willia said, “You’re going to go find Alexander--”

Molly pushed her friend out the door.

  
  
  
  


Half an hour later, Molly walked arm in arm with Alexander to her birthday party. She had asked Vega if she would like to walk together, but her new friend had found Nicolay, and the two of them had left to find Vega’s cousins to extend the invitation. Molly had also considered asking Ilana if she wanted to walk together, but decided that if she didn’t walk with Alexander, Willia and Sabrina would take that to mean Molly was indeed attracted to Alexander, and Molly did not have the patience for their nonsense.

Molly observed Alexander while they made their way to the designated location. She’d never thought about how he looked, but now that she did, she realized he was rather good looking. He had nice eyebrows, and a strong nose and jawline. Plus, he was tall. Molly had met Alexander’s parents once on the train platform back in first or second year. While Mr. Nott was of average height, Mrs. Nott was tall. Alexander had inherited her height. His sister Julia was an adorable sprite of a child, though. 

“Are you anxious, Molly?” Alexander asked.

Molly frowned. “No. Why do you ask?” 

“You keep looking at me like you have a question,” he said.

“How does that lead you to the conclusion that I feel anxious?” Molly wondered.

“Well, you usually have the same look on your face when you feel anxious, and when you want to ask a question,” he said.

“I do?” Molly asked, surprised.

“Yes,” Alexander said. “It’s endearing. You remind me of a curious kitten.” 

Molly looked down at herself--all five feet eight inches of herself, then back up at Alexander. “What part of me,” she said drily, “resembles a kitten?”

Alexander grinned. “All of you,” he said. “Your hair color, the gold in your eyes, the way you narrow them when you’re fed up with Willia and Sabrina, and how you’re always looking after the younger students,” he said.

“Thanks, I think?” Molly said.

Alexander patted her hand. “Of course, darling.” 

Molly felt odd hearing the endearment. Alexander didn’t usually use them with her unless he was mocking her. She decided she wouldn’t think about it now, though. Not while her hand was tucked in his arm.

  
  
  


When they stepped into the room, Molly and Alexander were greeted with fanfare.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY MOLLY!” 

Confetti exploded in the air, and a few fireworks shot up. Molly thought the extension on the ceiling was very clever.

No sooner had she let go of Alexander’s arm to brush the confetti off her face, when a solid weight crashed into her midsection.

“Oof!” Molly exhaled.

She wrapped her arms around her sister, who had evidently decided that her goal in life was to break Molly’s ribs. 

“Happy birthday, Molly!” Lucy said, beaming up at Molly. 

Molly squeezed Lucy a little tighter. She bent her head down to kiss Lucy’s forehead. “Thank you, Lucy,” she said.

Lucy squeezed even harder. Molly wondered why her sister wanted to kill her. She was saved by Roxanne and Lily who pulled Lucy away. 

There were a few seconds of respite, and then the rest of her cousins converged upon her. Molly laughed while trying not to die from asphyxiation or broken ribs. She wished dearly she could go back in time and hex whichever Weasley had started this ridiculous birthday tradition.

  
  


After escaping with her life, Molly was dragged by Lucy and Lily to her seat. Shy sweet Hugo pulled her chair out for her. Hugo was the only one who didn’t try to kill Molly with love. Even Rose and Albus, who were usually sensible, participated in the rib-crushing contest. 

Molly smiled at Hugo, squeezing his shoulder. 

“Let’s open presents!” James crowed.

“Presents! Presents! Presents!” Fred and James started to chant, clapping their hands in time. Many other students followed their example.

“Shouldn’t we eat first?” Molly asked mildly.

“We should eat first,” Hugo said, agreeing with her.

“Aww, party pooper,” James said, pouting. “All right, we’ll listen to your wishes, birthday girl.” People started dispersing for other tables or the drinks tables.

Roxanne laughed and took the seat next to Molly. She winked. “You’re in for a surprise. Don’t let him get the jump on you,” she said under her breath.

Molly scoffed. “As if I would let that disaster disguised as a human being get the better of me,” she muttered.

Roxanne chortled. “I don’t know why everyone thinks you’re the nicest cousin out of us all when you’ve got that sharp tongue,” she said. 

Molly looked around until she found Vega. She waved at her. Vega pointed at herself questioningly. Molly nodded and gestured for her to come over.

Vega and de Stauf walked over, arm in arm. 

_ Happy Birthday, Molly. Thank you for inviting us. _

“The pleasure is mine, Vega,” Molly said, smiling.

“Happy birthday, Molly Weasley,” de Stauf said. “I wish you a good school year.”

“Thank you, de Stauf,” Molly replied. She addressed both of them. “I was hoping to introduce Vega to my cousins. Although …” she trailed off looking around the room. “Perhaps, we should wait. Some of them are excited enough already.”

As if to prove Molly right, James and Caspian crashed into Roxanne at that moment. Molly narrowly avoided being crushed by the two boys only because Alexander pulled her out of the way.

Roxanne, whose face had ended up in her plate, was now cursing up a storm at the boys, which finally ended with a bat-bogey hex cast on both boys. 

Roxanne turned back to face her audience, having driven her cousin and friend away. “Sorry about that,” she said, wiping her face with a napkin. “We’re like a pack of monkeys compared to Molly. Hope we haven’t put you off.”

Vega held her hand out for Roxanne to shake.  _ That was a very good hex. Will you teach it to me some time? _

Roxanne shook Vega’s hand. “I’m Roxanne Weasley. I’d love to teach you! It’s a Weasley specialty, passed down to the women in the family and used mainly to keep the boys in our family in line.”

De Stauf reached up to cover his nose. “Please, Vega. Tell me you’re not planning to use it on me. I rather like my nose,” he said.

Vega didn’t respond to de Stauf, but her face dimpled as she introduced herself.  _ I’m Vega Lang. Pleased to meet you, Roxanne Weasley. _

“Why don’t you sit down, the both of you?” Roxanne said. She pulled out two seats for them.

De Stauf and Vega sat, and Roxanne reached over to serve them both. “What will it be? Roast? Veg? Some mash?”

While Roxanne and de Stauf introduced themselves to one another and negotiated the plating, Vega asked Molly about the boys who’d been hexed.

“That was James Potter and Caspian Jordan. James is my cousin, and Caspian’s father is best friends with my Uncle George. James and Caspian are best friends,” Molly answered.

Roxanne protested, “What? No, Caspian is  _ my _ best mate. I’ve known him since we were in the cradle!”

Alexander spoke up, “If that’s how you treat your best mate, I fear how you must treat your enemies.”

“Don’t worry, I treat my enemies with kindness and respect,” Roxanne said with a vicious grin.

“Isn’t that backwards?” a female voice asked.

Rose, Albus, and Scorpius had joined them at their table. 

“Or are you being facetious Roxanne?” Albus added.

“Of course not. I meant what I said, and I said what I meant,” Roxanne said.

“What she probably didn’t say,” Scorpius said with a sigh as he pushed his hair out of his eyes, “is that she treats her enemies with kindness so they’ll never see her when she turns on them.”

“Ohhh~” Albus and Rose said. 

De Stauf chuckled. When the two cousins looked at him, he shrugged. “Sorry. It’s like being at the table with my own cousins. The younger ones. You’re all adorable,” he explained.

“Adorable!” Scorpius gasped. He pretended to faint and fall onto Albus. “I haven’t been called adorable since I was in nappies.”

Albus pushed his best friend off his shoulder. “The house elves at your house all call you adorable,” he said, laughing.

Vega tilted her wand.  _ I agree with Didi. You three are adorable. I’m Vega Lang, by the way. _ She smiled at them.

All three fourth years looked conflicted. The boys because on the one hand, a pretty girl was smiling at them, but on the other hand, they’d just been called ‘adorable’ by a fifth year. Rose merely looked back and forth between the flames and Vega’s wand. Molly could see her mimicking Vega’s wand movements.

Molly wondered why all the cousins younger than her, other than Hugo, often forgot how to act like socialized human beings. She sighed. “These are my cousins Albus Potter and Rose Weasley, and Albus’s friend Scorpius Malfoy.” Albus, Rose, and Scorpius raised a hand to wave as Molly introduced them. 

Rose was like a dog with a bone. “What spell are you using for your words?” she asked.

Vega looked surprised, then considering. She finally waved her wand.  _ I don’t think I cast the same way you were taught, Rose. May I call you Rose? There are too many Weasleys at this table. You may call me Vega, if you wish, all three of you. _

Albus blushed, and Scorpius preened. Rose ignored the two boys. “Of course you may call me Rose. Even the professors sometimes have to resort to using our full names to distinguish which one of us is being addressed. Back to your flames, how do you mean? What does that have to do with the spell you use?”

Vega frowned and looked at her cousin. De Stauf raised an eyebrow at her before speaking. “I think my cousin is a bit confused about some of the magical theory terms in English. Let me attempt to answer for her,” he said. 

He poured pumpkin juice for the three fourth years before refilling Vega’s goblet and his own with cider. Albus and Scorpius murmured their thank-yous before starting to plate up. Rose thanked de Stauf, drank the whole glass, and watched both Vega and de Stauf with intense eyes.

Finally, de Stauf sipped from his own drink and set it down to talk. “The Langs have great affinity for fire. I’m not sure if you’ve heard of the Cardinal families of the Central Kingdom?”

Rose nodded. “I have. Albus, Scorpius, and I--and Jean-Pierre, the Beauxbatons student--we all looked it up in the library. There’s sixteen Cardinal families, four for each cardinal direction, and the Langs are a southern family, so they are descended from the Vermillion Bird,” she said. She studied Vega with curious eyes. “Are you really descended from a god?”

Vega’s chin tilted up slightly.  _ Now that you ask, I’m embarrassed to say. Yes. Didi, Allegra, and I are all descended from the Vermillion Bird. _

“Oh, but Allegra and I--that is Allegra Zabini--the relation is barely there. Vega, though, is from the main branch of a Cardinal family,” de Stauf said hurriedly.

_ Rose, you’re not related to the British Minister for Magic, are you? _

Rose startled. “Yes, she’s my mother. Why do you ask?”

_ She asked me the same question. _ Vega leaned back in her chair.  _ Are you also a skeptic? _

Rose considered the question carefully before answering. “No. I can see why my mother would be. I grew up in the wizarding world, though, listening to my father and uncle tell crazy stories about their school years. It’s not so hard for me to believe that gods are real and take corporeal form amongst humans,” she said.

“Besides,” Scorpius said, face turning pink as he spoke, “I know Zabini--and to see the three of you, it’s not hard to believe you’re descended from a god.”

Vega and Rose looked confused, and de Stauf raised one brow. Molly wanted to bury her face in her hands. Alexander and Roxanne both patted her on the back. 

“What Scorpius meant, is that the three of you are very good looking people,” Roxanne said.

Vega’s brows shot up. She shook her head and flicked her wand.  _ No, no. That’s not  _

_ Thank you.  _ She looked thoroughly embarrassed.

“Oh, that’s marvelous!” Roxanne said, pointing at Vega’s flames. “Molly didn’t tell me the fire could change colors.”

“You didn’t ask,” Molly said. She took a bite of gratin. 

Roxanne waved her hand. “Nevermind that. Could I interest you in a job? My brother Fred and I are trying to develop a new line of fireworks and firecrackers.”

De Stauf laughed. “You’ve asked the right person! Vega was quite the pyromaniac in our childhood.” 

Vega gave her cousin an incredulous look.  _ Says the person who set Uroma Ulrike’s rug and himself on fire. _

Molly saw Albus and Scorpius give each other nervous looks, then back at Vega and de Stauf, then at Rose. They slowly stood up from their chairs and started tiptoeing away, acting as if the speed of their actions would mask what they were doing. Rose rolled her eyes, then looked longingly at Vega and de Stauf. She stood up nonetheless, nodded at Molly, and left with the Albus and Scorpius.

“That was an accident! I didn’t even wave the wand. I just picked it up,” de Stauf claimed, eyes wide and innocent.

_ Of course. Bien fait, Didi. _

“Ouch! That was quite sarcastic. What did you do to Vega while I wasn’t here to supervise? For that matter, what did you do to those fourth years?” Allegra Zabini placed a hand on each of her cousins’ shoulders. She looked up and smiled at Molly. 

“Nothing at-all, Alli! Vega’s the one being nasty to me. How could you accuse me?” de Stauf said, clutching one hand over his heart. “I have no idea why they snuck away, but it wasn’t me!”

“Vega? She wouldn’t hurt a fly--I won’t have you slander her when she can’t speak up for herself,” Zabini said. She looked at the rest of the table, and made her way around it to meet Molly. “Hello! You must be Molly Weasley. I’m Allegra Zabini. Absolutely delighted to meet you, and thank you for inviting us. It’s a wonderful party,” she said. They shook hands.

“Oh, it was no trouble at all. I thought it would be a good place for Vega to meet people before she starts class officially tomorrow,” Molly said. 

“That’s so sweet of you!” Zabini said. “By the way, your hair looks smashing.”

Molly blushed. “Actually, Vega did it for me,” she admitted. “I was so frazzled this morning because I woke up late, and thought I had missed family breakfast with my cousins. I couldn’t manage to get my hair to stay, so she offered.”

Allegra gestured about the room. “This is what you consider a family meal? I must introduce you to my family. They would get on like a house on fire,” she said, grinning widely.

Roxanne laughed while Molly stammered.

“Oh, I like you,” Roxanne said. She held her hand out to Zabini. “I’m Roxanne Weasley,” she said.

“Roxanne, what a pretty name. I’m charmed,” Zabini said. “May I call the two of you by name? At least when there’s more than one Weasley in the same room. Otherwise, it’s confusing.”

Roxanne and Molly both agreed. Zabini smiled widely and told them to return the favor.

“Well, I’m off. There’s a lovely punch bowl, and a younger Zabini to introduce it to,” Allegra said. 

Roxanne’s eyes gleamed with interest when Allegra mentioned the punch bowl. “Mind if I come with you, Allegra?”

“Not at all,” Allegra said. She held her arm out to Roxanne. “Shall we?”

Roxanne took her arm. She turned to look at Molly and Alexander. “Alexander, take care of her for me. Don’t let the boys run her into the ground,” she said, winking.

Allegra pointed two fingers to her own eyes, then to de Stauf’s. “Didi, take good care of Vega. I’ve eyes in the back of my head, so don’t you pick on her. She’s my favorite cousin.”

De Stauf smiled good naturedly and waved his cousin off.

Alexander whistled. “Well, it seems not only do your families match in the number of red-heads, they also match in types of personalities,” he said.

“Why?”

Molly jumped in her seat. Lucy had appeared suddenly between she and Alexander. “Lucy! You scared me.”

Lucy looked like a kicked puppy. She hugged Molly, “Sorry, Molly.” She let go of Molly to address Alexander. “Well?”

Alexander looked at Lucy indulgently. “Don’t just hover between us. Sit down, Lucy.”

Lucy grinned and plopped down into the chair next to Alexander. “Now will you explain, Alexander?”

Alexander looked critically at Molly’s sister. “I think you should eat something so your sister doesn’t fret,” he said. 

Molly nodded. “Fill your plate, Lucy, and Alexander will explain.”

So naturally, Lucy filled her plate and started eating like a starved animal. With her utensils and good manners, but very rapidly. Across the table, de Stauf looked reluctantly impressed, and Vega’s eyes were crinkled. Molly repressed a sigh.

“It’s a disaster waiting to happen,” Alexander said, “because from what I know of both of those girls, they’re both big drinkers, eaters, and love to impress their love of drink on impressionable youth.”

De Stauf grinned at Alexander. “That’s Allegra, all right. All the Zabinis from her branch of the family are like that,” he said. Vega nodded while slowly eating her roast vegetables. 

De Stauf reconsidered what he just said. “Actually, it might be an Italian thing? They love food and wine.” He glanced down at Vega’s plate before serving her some Glamorgan sausages. His cousin sniffed delicately before cutting into one.

Alexander continued. “Roxanne and Fred Weasley are some of the wilder Weasley cousins. Roxanne and your cousin are both big charmers, I believe. They may amplify each others’ tendencies, good and bad,” he said.

Lucy giggled. “Are you saying that Roxanne will get pissed and Zabini will turn into an outrageous flirt?” she asked.

Alexander put more food on Lucy’s plate. “Something like that,” he said. “The best hope is that they’ll turn their charm on each other instead of inflicting it upon the other guests. Now eat so that you don’t horrify your sister with more comments like that.”

  
  
  
  


_ At another table at Molly’s Birthday Party _

_ Hugo Weasley _

“Marielle, you don’t understand. You’re an only child,” Hyacinthe groaned.

“I  _ do _ have cousins,” the French girl said emphatically.

“Do you see them often?” Douglas asked.

“No, most of them are far older than me. They already have their own children,” Marielle replied.

“Then it’s not the same,” Hugo said, shaking his head. Douglas who sat across from Hugo also shook his head. Hyacinthe quaffed her goblet. Hugo wondered if she wished for a stronger drink.

“I just don’t see why you all are so intimidated by your older siblings. They’re supposed to support you, and love and care for you, are they not?” Marielle asked. She took a sip from a coupe. Hugo wondered how she had managed to acquire a glass of champagne.

Hyacinthe laughed maniacally. “Care! You have no notion at all. I don’t know what it’s like for Douglas or Hugo, but my older siblings  _ care too much! _ Viv--my oldest brother--you’ve met him, he’s the Head Boy. He’s always on me about my manners, my sitting posture, my grades. Ugh! And Geoffrey’s no better. He’s a prefect, but instead of picking on  _ me _ , he picks on my friends. Emma doesn’t harp on me about grades or etiquette, but she’s always trying to hug or feed me to death, not to mention she writes about everything I do to our parents. Even their friends are in on it! Viv’s best friend Dieter is always saying hello to me in the halls, and then older girls who like him--or Viv--are always asking me what kind of girl they like. I’ve only been at Hogwarts six or seven weeks, and I’m already going spare!” 

Julia Nott patted Hyacinthe on the shoulder, while cleaning up the goblet of pumpkin juice she had upset in her impressive rant. 

Marielle sniffed, “Well, it can’t be like that for everyone else with siblings, no?” She looked around the table.

Alba Pereira Santos, the other Beauxbatons first year transfer, held up both hands, and shook her head. “My brother is fifteen years older, and I never see him.”

Douglas shuddered. “I don’t have as many siblings as Hyacinthe, but my older brother Anthony is an absolute troll. Even his best friend Auguste agrees Anthony’s a right menace. He’s always playing pranks or joking around. And he’s so  _ loud _ ,” he complained.

Marielle turned to Hugo and Julia. “And you two? Is it like that too?”

Julia screwed up her face in thought. “Alexander and I get along, but I think sometimes he treats me like a pet?”

Gareth Lloyd who sat next to Julia laughed. “Yes! He treats her like a purebred puppy! It’s hysterical and bizarre at the same time.”

Julia shrugged. “I don’t mind, honestly. He spoils me,” she said.

Marielle looked at Hugo questioningly.

Hugo nodded glumly. “My sister Rose is all right, but she can be bossy sometimes. I’m just glad she’s in Gryffindor, not Ravenclaw--

“--lucky you,” Hyacinthe muttered under her breath.

“--in fact, I’m glad I’m one of the few cousins in Ravenclaw. Of the cousins who are at Hogwarts, Fred, Roxanne, and James are always using stuff from WWW on us younger cousins, or helping Uncle George test new products, or blowing stuff up. Rose likes to boss people around. And James is always pranking Albus and Lily. Then Scorpius and Albus, or Lily and Lucy get into a pranking war with them. But if James and Fred go overboard, then Roxanne will change sides, and then James and Fred become even worse.  _ That _ leads to Albus and Lily writing to their mother, my Aunt Ginny, who sends howlers--oh merlin, it’s so embarrassing.  _ They’re _ so embarrassing. All of them. I only like Molly,” Hugo said.

Douglas nodded and said, “Molly’s a good ‘un.”

Alba lifted her glass. Hugo wondered if the house elves were biased? Otherwise, how had she gotten ahold of a glass of red wine? He thought he could see bubbles in it.

“To your cousin Molly Weasley,” Alba said, looking at Hugo.

Hugo lifted his bottle of butterbeer. “To Molly!”

The rest of the table joined in the toast to Molly, then to Molly’s health, and then to each others’.

  
  
  
  


_ Roxanne Weasley _

Roxanne was enjoying herself immensely. She was sat next to a beautiful Italian girl who kept feeding her delicious cheeses and bread, a glass of champagne in hand, and best of all, Allegra had managed to get their entire table pleasantly tipsy, if not outright drunk. 

Louis was sandwiched between Giorgio Passerini and Matthew Longbottom, singing a French drinking song while the other two tried their best to harmonize with him. Giorgio’s French was good, of course, but Matthew’s was awful. Allegra’s best friend Emma Wensleydale and Emma’s twin Geoffrey were regaling young and giggly Dante Zabini and Étienne Dufort with tales of their childhood adventures in muggle Edinburgh. Anthony Boot and Fred were planning some sort of prank on Boot’s younger brother and Hugo, while Auguste Nicolay attempted to deter them by continuously refilling their glasses and pushing them into their hands.

Roxanne laid her head on Allegra’s shoulder, and sighed. “I’m so glad we got acquainted, Allegra. You’re like my soulmate,” she said.

Allegra laughed and fed her a cracker with brie and fig preserves. “I’m happy we met, too, Roxanne! As much as I love them both, Didi doesn’t excite easily, and Vega eats like a bird. You get me!” 

Roxanne reached over to refill Allegra’s glass. 

  
  
  
  


_ After the party _

_ Molly Weasley _

Molly waved the last guest off before looking about the room and sighing. Roxanne laughed and slung an arm around her. 

“Favorite cousin of mine, what’s got you so sad? Didn’t you like your birthday party?” Roxanne asked.

“I did, but now we have to clean up,” Molly said, gesturing at the general mess.

Rose wrapped an arm around Molly’s waist. “We’re not going to make you clean up after your own birthday party, Molly. Do you think we’re monsters?” she joked.

Molly looked about worriedly. “Are you sure? Half of you aren’t even sober, and the other half are …” she trailed off, looking at the youngest cousins and James.

“As round as oranges?” Rose offered. 

Molly cracked a smile. 

Roxanne tapped Molly’s nose. “Don’t worry, sweet Molly. Rose and I can handle these idiot boys. Even the ones who ate themselves into a stupor,” she said. “Go back and rest.”

“What about Lucy?” Molly asked.

“Don’t worry about Lucy. We’ll take her and the others who participated in the cake-eating contest to the hospital wing to get a stomach soother before we take them back to their dorms,” Rose said.

Roxanne nodded. Then scrunched her face. “Not James, though. He can figure it out himself. He’s older than us, anyway.”   
“Now go, Molly. I can see Alexander waiting for you,” Rose said, nodding her head in the direction of the door. “He’s already had all your gifts sent up to Ravenclaw for you.”

“What a man,” Roxanne said, winking at Rose and Molly.

Molly sighed and shook both cousins off. “All right. All right.” She fixed a look at both of them. “I don’t want to hear about any shenanigans tomorrow morning. I’m trusting you to take the lead, Rose.”

Roxanne whined, “I’m older than Rose. Why don’t you trust me?”

Molly and Rose stared at her. Roxanne kept her lip in a pout. Finally she cracked a smile and all three girls giggled.

  
  
  


Molly and Alexander walked back to Ravenclaw, her hand tucked into his arm, as usual. 

“Did you enjoy yourself?” Alexander asked.

“Of course, Alexander. My cousins are good party-planners, are they not?” she responded cheerfully.

“They are, but they also tire you out,” he said.

Molly closed her eyes briefly and sighed. “They have good intentions,” she said.

They turned a corner and Molly stifled a gasp.

“Is that Tristan Finch-Fletchley and …” Molly squinted at the couple.

“Sarah Shacklebolt,” Alexander supplied. He turned Molly away. “Let’s not bother the lovebirds.”

“We’re prefects, though, Alexander.  _ Tristan’ _ s a prefect,” Molly protested.

“Yes, well. The boy’s so timid, it’s good to see him open up and experience love, don’t you think?” Alexander said, leading Molly away from the alcove.

“Why do you always talk like that?” Molly asked.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re older than everyone else.”

Alexander blinked. “Is it bad?”

“No,” Molly said, shaking her head, “but it’s … weird. You’re too genial.”

“And  _ that’s _ bad?” Alexander asked, one dark brow raised.

“No, it’s not bad. It’s just … is there anyone you  _ don’t _ like, Alexander? You talk about everyone as if they’re your children or a younger sibling. You talk fondly of everyone. That’s weird,” Molly said, frowning up at him.

“I don’t like everyone,” Alexander said. 

Molly tilted her chin up at him, a silent question in her eyes.

“I don’t talk to you like that,” he said quietly. 

Molly didn’t know how to respond. 

“Molly,” Alexander said, turning to face her fully. Molly realized that he had maneuvered them into a sequestered nook, not unlike the one Tristan and Shacklebolt had been snogging in.

Alexander was holding both of Molly’s hands now. “Molly,” he said again, “do you know how I feel about you?”

Molly didn’t dare look away. She had always met Alexander face to face, even in first year when some of their year mates had whispered rumors about him. She had never averted her gaze. In turn, Alexander had never made fun of her. He never made fun of gawky, skinny Molly Weasley, with her wild hair, and fear of flying. He teased her, but usually he did it by getting her into a competitive mood academically, or by making fun of himself. 

Molly realized with a jolt that Alexander, not Roxanne--not any longer-- was her best friend. How was she supposed to respond to his feelings when she had only just realized he was her best friend? Was she the dense one, and not Willia?

“Alexander,” Molly said. She paused, biting her lower lip. 

“Molly, dear,” Alexander said, bringing one hand up to her face, “don’t bite on your lip.”

Molly could feel her face turning red. She really wanted to look away. “Why not?” she asked instead.

“It’s not a good habit. Especially not for someone who enjoys card games as much as you. Also, it draws my attention to your lips,” he said.

Molly inhaled deeply, then exhaled shakily. “I know how you feel, I think,” she finally said.

“Yes?” he said, eyes gentle.

“You’ve been courting me since third year,” she said.

Alexander smiled. “Who told you?”

“Robert Winchester called you my beau in passing,” Molly said. 

Alexander brushed his thumb gently against her cheek before letting go. “I’ll give you time to think about it.” He led her out of the nook. “Let’s go back to the tower, darling.”

Molly fought back a shiver and let him lead her back to Ravenclaw.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> de la Tour - Charlotte de la Tour published in 1819, Le langage des fleurs, a book with symbolic meanings of flowers from different cultures gathered into one compendium. In Victorian England, it became fashionable and popular to send messages using flowers.
> 
> swimming - Vega's weakness. It might sound ridiculous, but I based this on my father. He can float on his back in water, and I think he can tread water too, but he can't truly swim.
> 
> "Bien fait." - This is not something you want to say in French, unless you're being critical or sarcastic. It basically translates to a very sarcastic "well done." It does NOT mean "good job"!
> 
> Alexander's comment about red-heads in both families - I wasn't going to make all the Weasleys redheads, but then I caved to the lore. That's one of the identifying markers of a Weasley, is it not? *laughs* No, not many are true red-heads. Bill's children are all strawberry blond; Percy and George's children have reddish-brown or brownish-red hair; Rose actually has red hair; Hugo has auburn hair; James has auburn hair, Albus has black, and Lily has red. Alexander makes this comment because Inge, Dieter's older sister, is a redhead, Allegra's brother Achille has reddish-brown hair, and Allegra has dark strawberry blond hair.
> 
> Cider - to be specific, they are drinking French cider, of which there is no non-alcoholic form. It's between 3-6% ABV. A soft drink.
> 
> Champagne - Yes, there is champagne at the party. However, Hugo is mistaken when he thinks Marielle is drinking Champagne. She's drinking Asti Spumante, an Italian sparkling wine. It's very sweet, and the ABV varies between 6-9%. Also a soft drink.
> 
> red sparkling wine - Alba is drinking dolce Lambrusco (sweet), to be precise. It's around 7.5% ABV. Please remember that she and Marielle are both eating. 
> 
> Are the house elves biased? Maybe, maybe not. The students at Beauxbatons are allowed to drink with dinner (in my world-building). Although, there is a limit depending on age group. Or, it may simply be that Marielle and Alba know what they like, and asked the house elves to provide it. 
> 
> Character Introductions
> 
> Caspian Jordan: Lee Jordan's eldest child. Fifth Year Gryffindor. I had read a story in which McGonagall wondered whether Lee Jordan had been named after the Lee River in Ireland, which I thought was funny, since his last name is also a river. I was going to name Lee's children after other Irish rivers, but decided I didn't like any of the male choices, even though I liked Shannon for a daughter's name. So I named them after bodies of water in other parts of the world. I'll leave his sister's name and intro for another chapter. ;)
> 
> Hyacinthe Wensleydale: First Year Ravenclaw. Pureblood. The pitiable youngest of the Wensleydale siblings. Her siblings all hover and suffocate her. She cannot wait until her third year, when they'll all have graduated. Vivian asked her to help Marielle adjust to Hogwarts as they share a dorm. Marielle charmed her when she called her "Ya-sahnt," which is the french pronunciation of Hyacinth, and actually what Hyacinthe's grandmother calls her since she's French. Marielle and Grandmother Wensleydale are not very good at pronouncing "aitch."
> 
> Douglas Boot: First Year Ravenclaw. Pureblood. Anthony Boot's younger brother. He, Hugo Weasley, and Hyacinthe are fast becoming best friends. They all have unbearable older siblings or cousins, and bonded over this fairly quickly.
> 
> Julia Nott: First Year Slytherin. Pureblood. Alexander's younger sister. She's short for her age. She and Alexander adore each other, but she does realize he spoils her--even more than her parents!
> 
> Gareth Lloyd: First Year Slytherin. Halfblood. Very old family. He and Julia have befriended Alba Pereira Santos, and in turn, Marielle Manet. So you have this group of Ravenclaw and Slytherin first years all sitting together. He's an only child, so no complaining from him during Hugo's POV.
> 
> Matthew Longbottom: Neville's eldest child. He's a sixth year Gryffindor and prefect, and James Potter's best friend. If he hadn't been preoccupied with singing, he would have dissuaded James from participating in the cake-eating contest. Initially, he was only going to have one sibling, but I decided to give him two instead. You'll see them later.
> 
> Emma and Geoffrey Wensleydale: Sixth Year Slytherins. Pureblood. Fraternal twins who get along, but there can be a lot of tension between the two sometimes. Sinistra and McGonagall decided not to make both of them prefects because of this. They obey, fear, and love Vivian (whereas Hyacinthe just suffers through Vivian's lectures or runs away if she thinks he hasn't seen her yet.)


	11. In which Leda worries over her Sister

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leda refers to Vega by honorific language which in English translates to “older sister.” That’s quite a mouthful, so I’m just going to use “Sister,” instead. When she speaks in non-Chinese languages, she still calls Vega “older sister” in Minnan dialect.  
> Her ‘Uncle’ calls her “Leda” in this chapter, but honestly he has Allspeak-like abilities, and people hear whatever language they want to hear, so Leda hears her Chinese name just as often as her Western name. 
> 
> Also, I'm sorry this chapter is my shortest yet. I've been sitting on this for a while, but until things get moving more on Vega's end, there isn't much happening in Leda's life. This is just a taste of what her daily life is like when Vega is at school. Also, I'm having some trouble writing the next bit, so I decided I would just post this part first.

Meanwhile … 

_ Saturday _

_ Elsewhere _

_ Leda Lang _

Leda crouched in the higher branches of an apple tree, gathering apples and floating them down into a basket. Her Uncle was picking from the lower branches below her. She chewed on her lip for a few minutes, then stopped, then started up again.

Her Uncle looked up. “Leda, you’ll have no lower lip left if you don’t stop,” he said.

Leda stopped chewing on the exterior of her lip, but she couldn’t resist gently biting onto the inside of her lip with her front teeth.

“What’s got you so worried, little swan?” Uncle asked, head tilted to one side.

Leda paused what she was doing. She looked at the apple in her hand. “I’m worried about Sister,” she said.

Uncle continued to pick apples while he spoke. “She responded to your letters, did she not?”

Leda muttered under her breath, “Yes, but she didn’t tell me if she was visiting at all before Dongzhi.”

Uncle stopped picking apples. He peered through the branches to look at Leda. “You don’t like it when I visit?” he asked.

Leda frowned at the apple in her hand. “I do, but I miss Sister,” she grumbled.

Uncle hummed as he carried the full basket of apples to the wagon. He brought an empty basket back, and continued picking. “If you’re tired,” he said, “shall we go back in?”

Leda shook her head quickly. “I’m not tired!” She floated the apple down into the basket. She climbed another branch.

“Uncle?”

“Yes, Leda?”

“Madame Maxime is dead. She’s the one who made Sister’s portkey. Even if Vega wanted to visit me on the weekends, how would she if she doesn’t have a portkey?” Leda asked. She realized she was half-wailing at this point, but she didn’t care. She hadn’t seen Sister in three weeks, and she  _ really _ missed her!

“Control your pitch and tone, Leda. You’ll frighten all the wildlife away,” Uncle said.

Leda huffed through her nostrils. She crossed her arms. “I don’t care,” she said. “I want Sister.”

Uncle threw his arms up. “Your sister didn’t tell me any of her plans. She only asked me to visit you more often,” he said. He whistled a few notes, soothing the birds in the vicinity. “You’ve enough food and coin to last you until your sister comes home for Mid-Winter, haven’t you?”

Leda nodded grudgingly. “More than enough,” she said sourly. 

Leda knew Sister always left enough wizarding and muggle money in the house in case of emergencies. Although Sister rarely took Leda to magical areas, Leda knew the basics of how to navigate and fend for herself. They lived in a muggle village, and everyone in the valley bartered with each other, trading home-grown or -raised products when the roads to the city became unreliable in the winter months. In the Summer months, they would drive the pony and wagon into the village twice a week to sell flowers, teas, dried herbs, fruit preserves, and produce. During the school year, Sister visited once every one to two weeks, and they did not always go to the village market. That was family time, Sister would explain, then hug and kiss Leda. Leda would bury her nose in Sister’s robes and inhale deeply. Sister always smelled like fresh laundry, sandalwood, and wood ash. 

Sometimes when Sister didn’t come home for the weekend, Leda would sit inside Sister’s wardrobe and bury her face in one of Sister’s cloaks, or anything that hadn’t been washed yet. Leda’s memories from when she was young were disappearing or blurring, but she still retained vague impressions of her parents, Brother, and her grandparents. She remembered better the smell of smoke and ash. Sister crying. Sister’s arms around her. Watching Sister mime or write and gesticulate to strangers. She remembered Sister’s fear. How Sister would smile even while her arms would tense around Leda. She remembered Sister feeding Leda, but not herself. Sister’s exhaustion and trembling hands. Leda loved Sister more than anyone else in this world. She knew even when she was able to meet more people and make more friends, even meet her future husband, she would still love Sister best. So the thought that she couldn’t see Sister, and not being able to see and know firsthand of Sister’s wellbeing made her alternatively sad and restless.

“Little Swan,” Uncle said, voice firm, “You know if you do not tell me what worries you, I cannot guess easily. Not in the matters of the heart.”

Leda peeked at Uncle. His beard and hair had fluffed outwards. His hands were on his hips.

“I’m scared that Sister will die and leave me all by myself,” Leda said softly.

Uncle’s hearing was inhuman, though, and he caught Leda’s words. Uncle swung up into the tree and plucked her from the higher branch. He sat down on the sturdiest nexus of branches, Leda in his lap.

“I won’t let your sister die, little swan,” he said. 

Leda was tearing up, and her nose was starting to run. She smushed her face into Uncle’s torso. He smelled like sandalwood and charcoal. It was similar to Sister’s smell.

“I know, Uncle, but I still get scared. You didn’t think everyone would die, but there’s only Sister, me, and maybe Brother now,” she mumbled.

Uncle ran his fingers through Leda’s hair. His hand was very warm, and it felt nice. Her sister’s hands were very warm, too. When she was home during the school year, she and Leda shared a bed even though they didn’t have to, and she would hold Leda in her arms, and make puppet shows from fire and shadows while Ah-gong or Albi narrated from the nearest portrait frame. Leda would watch gods and witches do tremendous or normal things in other parts of the world while Sister gently ran her fingers through Leda’s hair--the same way Uncle was doing right now.

“I promise you your sister won’t die until she is old and wrinkled like a sultana, little swan,” Uncle said. 

Leda smiled at the image. 

Uncle continued speaking to her gently. His voice rumbled pleasantly, the vibrations like a long unheard lullaby. “I promised your sister I would protect both of you until it was your time to leave this plane. Do you remember what I said about making promises?”

Leda tightened her arms around Uncle’s waist. He was like a bonfire, but the heat was pleasant and familiar. Her sister had explained once that not everyone could touch Uncle without burning. Leda had asked if Vega had a similar condition, and Vega’s face had slackened with shock, before she bent over and laughed in that quiet wheezing way. 

Leda counted her breaths, and measured her exhales and inhales. Her heart slowed. “Okay,” she said into Uncle’s chest. “I believe you Uncle.” She lifted her face up to look at his face. “When will Sister come home?”

Uncle chuckled good-naturedly. He shook his head. “I already told you I don’t know the answer to that question, little swan. Continuing to ask me the same question over and over again won’t change the answer,” he said.

Leda frowned. Uncle chucked her under the chin. “You shouldn’t stick your lip out like that when you frown, little swan. The hog butcher will be tempted to visit,” he said.

Leda rolled her eyes. That was a Chinese joke, according to one of the residents of the valley. At the very least, the old German woman who liked to give Leda free biscuits on market days said she had never heard of such a saying about pouting lips and pork and butchers in Europe. So Leda figured it was Chinese. Only Uncle said it. Vega would smile or grimace depending on her mood when she heard it. Vega didn’t much like pork. Leda didn’t know why. Vega would buy it and she would even help Lulu prepare it for Leda. She wouldn’t eat it, though. Nor beef, or lamb, or anything with four legs. Vega said she would explain when Leda was older.

Uncle set Leda back on the higher branch before jumping out of the tree. They continued picking until mid-morning, then returned to the house. Leda helped Lulu make applesauce and apple pie. Uncle had apple pie for lunch, and Leda ate applesauce with ham and potato pancakes. Uncle didn’t eat pork either. Actually, Uncle didn’t eat anything other than sweets and fruit, for the most part. He didn’t need to eat, so he only ate for pleasure, or so Lulu said. Lulu doted on Uncle as if he were also her charge. Leda thought it was funny, but Vega looked sad whenever Leda brought it up, so Leda stopped pointing it out to her sister. A lot of things made her sister sad. Leda tried to ask Ah-gong, Mimi, and Albi, but they told her they didn’t know for sure, either. Ah-gong, she understood how that might be since he had died before Vega or Leda were born. Mimi and Albi had known Vega, though. Sure, they only knew her sister for the first three or four years of her life, but Leda was under the mistaken impression that her older sister had come out of the womb walking and talking and on fire. Whenever she said something to that effect, Vega would just shut her eyes tightly and cover her face with her hands. Mimi would blink, and Albi and Ah-gong would laugh. Uncle would smile and tell her she was right about the last part, but not the others.

Leda believed Uncle. Her sister was Uncle’s heir, after all.

After lunch, Leda worked on Latin with Mimi and Albi. Mimi praised her and set her to translating an old potions recipe into French. So she worked on that for an hour. 

  
  


_ Sunday morning _

Leda woke up before dawn broke over the valley. She put on a robe and went to the kitchen to help Lulu with breakfast. Lulu fussed over her while she ate her muesli and fruit. She mixed two heaping spoonfuls of Ovaltine into a glass of milk and stirred with concentration until Lulu tapped the side of the glass with a finger, and the chocolate milk became perfectly mixed. Leda drank her milk with greedy gulps.

After finishing her breakfast, she went to dress. It was Saturday, and Uncle and she would go to the village market today. Lulu said they had too many apples this year, so they were to sell apples, apple butter, dried apple slices, and apple blossom tea. 

Leda scratched her head. “Lulu, shouldn’t we bring other things to sell, too?”

“Yes, you should bring the fall flowers, mushrooms, and summer pickles, too,” the elf said.

Leda nodded and went off to gather those things for the wagon. 

She went to find Uncle once everything was readied for travel. “Uncle, it’s time to go,” she said.

Leda ate more on the ride into the village. Uncle handled the horses’ reins, so her hands were free to hold her food. Lulu had packed a thermos of tea, fresh bread, hard boiled eggs, cold cuts, and mini cucumbers. Leda laughed as she tried to evade Bruno, her dog, who tried his best to steal some food. She gave him a few cucumbers to crunch on.

They reached the village center without mishap. As always, the village children were excited to pet the horses and Bruno. Some of them caught sight of the pies and ran off to tell their parents what they craved for dessert that night.

Leda and Uncle set up their stands. Uncle cut an apple up so some of the lingering children could feed the chunks to the horses or Bruno. One of the other vendors came to greet them.

“Hallo Leda! Hallo Herr Lang! How are the two of you doing? We missed you the last two weeks,” Frau Rochat said. 

Uncle usually left most of the communication to Leda and Vega. Rarely did he bother speaking to the villagers. They all knew at this point that of the three Langs, Herr Lang was silent by choice, Vega was silent by nature, and Leda did all the talking.

Leda smiled at Frau Rochat. “No, there was a family emergency, so we haven’t been able to come,” she said. “And we are doing fine this morning. Thank you, Frau Rochat.”

Frau Rochat glanced at their stand. “So many things made of apples! I’m surprised your apples did so well. My neighbor’s did not do very well this year. However, that may have to do with the wasp infestation that killed their bees,” she said.

Leda nodded. “Would you be interested in buying any apples or apple food today, Frau Rochat? They are all delicious!”

Frau Rochat smiled widely. “Of course, Leda! Your family makes very good food. I will take two pies, a bouquet, and three jars of apple butter. How much will that be?”

Leda did the math quickly. “Twenty-five francs, Frau Rochat. Unless you have any jam jars to return today?”

Frau Rochat shook her head. “No, not today. Next time I see you, I will have them, perhaps,” she said. Uncle helped Frau Rochat pack all her purchases with the exception of the bouquet, which Leda was still creating.

“Would you like to keep your flowers here with us in water until one of us leaves for the day?” Leda asked.

Frau Rochat said, “Yes, thank you Leda. I’d like that very much. I shall see you later, then. And maybe you or your Uncle could be tempted into buying some of my vegetables? I have some golden beets, which I remember you like.”

“Okay! I will see you later, Frau Rochat. I will definitely buy some vegetables from you!”

Frau Rochat crooked her finger at her son Adam. “Come along, Adam. We need to go help your father,” she said. 

The little boy fed the last of the apple pieces to Bruno, who gobbled everything down before licking Adam’s chubby face. Adam giggled and hugged the huge dog, earning himself another slobbery kiss. He turned to hug Leda around the legs, waved cheerily to Uncle, and skipped over to take his mother’s hand. 

Leda laughed and waved to Adam. His laughter was infectious. Even Uncle smiled and wiggled his fingers at the little boy. Bruno whined a little before nosing at Uncle's hand. With one hand, Uncle scratched behind the dog's ears indulgently. With his other hand, he reached over and tickled Leda's side. She squealed before jumping away from his fingers. She placed her hands on her hips, and frowned up at him.

"Careful you don't let the butcher see you, little swan."

Leda laughed at his bad joke.

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dongzhi | 冬至 - Celebration of the Winter Solstice. Rather than the beginning of winter, the Chinese and several other peoples of East Asia consider this to be mid-winter. It used to be a celebration of the end of the harvest season, but now it’s more about the gathering of family and ancestral remembrance.


	12. In which there is news from the Continent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys. Oh my lord. Do you know what I just realized? First, I'm sorry, because we're only now, in chapter 12, having a classroom scene, which is ridiculous considering Hogwarts is a school! What I realized is that all of my scenes prior are either people eating in the Great Hall, people eating in Hogsmeade, people eating in an empty classroom, people eating in the hospital wing ... you get the gist. So I'm apologizing because I've realized belatedly that my love for food probably is the reason for why there are so many eating scenes, and no classroom scenes, nor any other scenes of education.  
> 

_Monday morning_

_The Great Hall_

_Giorgio Passerini_

Giorgio blinked at the cup set in front of him. He squinted at the hand which was holding a pot of coffee, and followed it up to an angelic face. 

“Un caffè, Giorgio?” Dante Zabini asked cheerily.

Giorgio pushed his cup closer to the boy. “Per favore,” he whispered fervently.

After his second cup, and fourth biscotti, he finally picked up his newspaper, which the disgruntled owl had dumped onto his thankfully empty plate. Dante had fed it some bacon as an apology on Giorgio’s behalf, and Giorgio had promptly decided that he would fund the boy’s first born child’s dowry or bride price. Or apprenticeship. He still could not talk without aggravating his headache, though, so he settled for patting the boy’s shoulder fondly.

A rosy golden color caught his eye. Giorgio looked to his side. Allegra Zabini had sat down next to him. She too, was served a cup of coffee and biscotti, of which she clutched like her life depended upon.

Giorgio glanced around the table. Most of the table was eating a full English breakfast. Or Scottish. Or Irish. Or Northern Irish. Or Cornish. Or Welsh, as a third year boy explained to Étienne why there were cockles being served at breakfast. In front of Giorgio and Allegra, a plate of carbonara had appeared.

Allegra shut her eyes tightly as she finished her coffee. Dante appeared with the pot and refilled it for her. She finished that one too, before serving herself a heaping portion of carbonara. 

Giorgio served himself some, too. As he started to eat, a poached egg appeared on top of his pasta. 

He looked over at Allegra’s plate. She too, had a beautifully poached egg nestled in her pasta. He looked over at Dante, who had finally sat down to eat. The younger boy was digging into a plate of carbonara and poached egg, though he had also filled a smaller plate with black and white pudding, fried tomatoes, mushrooms, and fruit.

Giorgio looked at Allegra in confusion. “Did you train your cousin to serve you coffee and biscotti when you have a hangover?” He looked over at the other tables before adding, “And have the house elves been trained to feed the choice of hangover cure to the Slytherins?”

Allegra ate a few more bites and most of her egg before answering him with a succinct, “Yes.”

Giorgio shrugged and went back to eating. He turned the page of his newspaper.

“Anything interesting?” Allegra asked.

Giorgio looked over at her, one of his eyebrows raised. “Are you asking if there’s anything of note in here, or if there’s anything _interesting_?” he asked.

Allegra had finished her pasta, and was now reaching for soda bread and marmalade. “Either,” she answered.

Giorgio skimmed over the headlines. “Well,” he said, “Giralamo suggests in his column, that Volpi is actually Ariel Singleton, who has either gotten a sex change and transfigured her--him?--himself to appear as Volpi does. That, or Singleton is using polyjuice, and the appearance is from an unsuspecting muggle. Saverio claims that the attack on Beauxbatons was perpetrated by magical animals who are anthromages, therefore able to turn into human beings. His reasoning is that--”

Allegra swallowed hastily, but choked anyway. Giorgio poured her a glass of water, which she attempted to drink, but ended up coughing back up. On Allegra’s other side, Emma Wensleydale reached around her brother Geoffrey to thump Allegra on the back a few times.

Finally, Allegra stopped coughing. Giorgio vanished the contents of her glass and poured her a new glass. She drank deeply. 

“Thanks, Giorgio,” she said, sighing. “I’ll never get tired of Saverio’s conspiracy theories.” She laughed, then stopped abruptly, wincing and putting one hand to her temple.

Geoffrey, who had woken up from his doze when Emma started thwacking Allegra, chortled as he handed her a clean napkin. “You should probably stop reading that sorry excuse for a newspaper at mealtimes. If not for Emma, you would have choked to death years ago,” he said. Emma nodded in agreement, chewing on her breakfast.

Allegra put both hands up in surrender. “All right, all right. I’ll try,” she said. She turned to Dante to ask, “Has _La nouvelle époque_ been delivered?”

Dante shoved a huge bite into his mouth before handing over the newspaper. 

“Thank you, bambino,” Allegra said fondly. Her cousin nodded whilst continuing to eat. Giorgio was fascinated. Where did he put all of that? 

Allegra seemed to have noticed Giorgio’s fascination. She giggled and shook her head. “Don’t feel intimidated, Giorgio. Dante is an only child, but he spent a fair amount of his childhood with us older cousins. Competing with teenagers for food is hard work for a small child. He learnt early on that most of us eat lightly in the morning, so he took to eating heavily at breakfast,” she said.

Giorgio watched a little longer before returning to his breakfast and newspaper. After flipping through it and confirming it was mostly nonsense, he looked over at Allegra. “Dioli says that Contarini was absolutely incensed by Romilly’s response to the attack, and how he handled the border closing and the reunions of Italian schoolchildren with their families. Alana Lagadec, deputy to the head of the Office for Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, smoothed things out by facilitating cooperation between the Quaestores parricidii and French Office of the Aurors, helping to expedite background investigations of the Italian families and children in question, and secure portkeys for the children. Contarini sent two magnificent bouquets in response. One to each of them,” he said.

Allegra’s eyes widened. “Does Dioli say what was in the bouquets?”

“Yes, according to her source, Romilly’s bouquet had yellow carnations, marigolds, petunias, rue, and a single withered rose,” Giorgio said.

“Oh!” Étienne Dufort exclaimed, “He’s furious, in grief for the families who lost children, and rejects and reproaches Romilly’s morals. That’s very harsh. It’s no wonder Romilly’s been trying to reassign Lagadec, and impose new tariffs on Italian coral and iron.”

Dante looked at his new friend, who sat two seats down from him. “You know Italian?” he asked.

Étienne furrowed his brow. He nodded slowly. “Don’t you know French?” he asked in return, switching to French.

Dante blinked. He shrugged and returned to eating. 

Allegra whispered to Giorgio, “I’m more surprised by his knowledge of floral language than Italian.” Giorgio chuckled.

Étienne turned to Giorgio and Allegra. “What was in the bouquet for Lagadec?” he asked, switching back to Italian.

Giorgio relocated where he had left off. “Camellias, ivy, pear blossoms, and wallflowers,” he read.

Allegra thought for a moment. “That’s a rather woody bouquet, no? Beautiful and poetic, and a fair sight friendlier than Romilly’s bouquet, but woody all the same,” she said, amused.

Étienne looked confused. “Is Contarini looking to marry?” he asked.

Giorgio paused. “I haven’t heard anything about it. Why do you ask?”

“Well, he’s wishing her good health and hope, and professing eternal friendship, _and_ that he shall love her always!” Étienne said. He took a swig of juice, and looked intently at Giorgio.

“Camellias also mean excellence and steadfastness,” Giorgio explained. 

Allegra tapped a finger against the table. “Does Contarini even like witches?” she asked. “I thought he was into wizards. Hence, the withered rose in Romilly’s bouquet.”

Giorgio, Dante, and Étienne looked at her in disbelief. 

“How do you know that?” Étienne asked. The younger boy looked fascinated and disgusted. Allegra smiled wickedly. “A woman’s got her secrets,” she said.

Dante snorted. “More like our family matriarch and Alli’s mother make it their business to know every Italian family’s interests. All the better to make backroom deals,” he said.

Allegra clucked her tongue at Dante. “The Zabini family prizes knowledge. It’s what keeps our family in firm standing. And we do not make backroom deals. We make _alliances_ ,” she said with emphasis.

“What’s this about backroom deals and blackmail?” 

Allegra and Giorgio looked over their shoulders. Dieter had come over from the Hufflepuff table. 

“Not you too, Dieter,” Allegra huffed. “And I didn’t mention blackmail.”

Dieter winked at Dante, who rolled his eyes. “Alli,” Dieter said, smiling pleasantly, “have you any sober up potion left?” He looked down at his cousin’s plate, raised an eyebrow, and shook his head. “Nevermind. Are you out of headache potion as well?”

Allegra sighed. “I’m all out. I sold most of it to Louis Weasley, and then we drank the rest Sunday morning.” She paused to press the heel of one hand against her eye and cover a yawn with her other hand. “I know. I shouldn’t have.”

Giorgio looked at the seventh year curiously. “Do you need some? You seem perfectly fine,” he said.

Dieter tapped Geoffrey’s arm, and the boy made room for him. The older boy sat down between Geoffrey and Allegra. He flashed a grin at Giorgio. “I feel great. A jar of gherkin juice and some good cheese before bed will keep hangovers away. No, it’s not for me. A friend is suffering from too much Asti, of all things!” He turned to Dante. “Dante, pass the coffee, please?”

Dante levitated the pot over to Dieter, who thanked him, refilled Giorgio and Allegra’s cups, and served himself. He sipped and sighed appreciatively. “These are from your Bisnonna Zabini, aren’t they?” he asked.

Allegra was still chewing, so Dante answered for her. “Today’s coffee is from Allegra’s Bisnonna. We alternate between Allegra’s coffee and mine,” he said.

Dieter seemed to recall why he had come over to the Slytherin table. “Any news from France or Italy?” he asked.

Dante sniggered. “Contarini insulted Romilly with a bouquet, but he sent one professing friendship and love to Lagadec,” he said.

“I’m not surprised,” Dieter said. “What was in each bouquet? Wait, isn’t Contarini attracted to men?”

Dante groaned and Étienne covered his face with one hand. Giorgio just sighed and handed him his newspaper, pointing out the article in question. Dieter passed Giorgio his copy of _Die Volksaufklärung_ in return.

Dieter skimmed through the article, laughing when he finished. He flipped to the front page of _Di Tanto in Tanto_. Dismissing the headline and bylines with a chuckle, he peered over Allegra’s shoulder. “Right. Anything else worth knowing?” 

Allegra set her newspaper down on the table. “Yes,” she said, pointing to a segment, “the French ministry has given an account of the Beauxbatons student population.” She started reading aloud. “At present, we have accounted for ninety-one percent of students from the Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, equaling 1,831 of the total 2,012 students. 925 students--forty-six percent--of the student population, were gravely injured or killed during the September tragedy. In all, we have thus far confirmed 765 dead.”

Étienne dropped his fork. Allegra stopped reading. She looked at him with concern. “Étienne, I don’t have to read the rest aloud,” she said gently.

Giorgio’s eyes met Étienne’s. He nodded his head supportively. The younger boy’s face had paled. He pushed his plate aside. “No, please finish. I’ll be all right,” he said. He nodded back at Giorgio in silent acknowledgement.

Allegra and Dieter traded looks. She resumed. “Of the remaining sixty-two percent of students, nine percent, that is, 181 students are unaccounted for. There is a possibility they have been abducted by the terrorists. According to the ministry census, their estimation is that twelve percent of students will transfer to Durmstrang; fourteen percent to Hogwarts; eleven percent to Castelobruxo; four percent to Koldovstoretz; and twelve percent will remain at home with their families.” 

“What are the actual numbers for those percentages?” Dante asked. 

Étienne, the only native French speaker, did the math quickly. “241 to Durmstrang, 282 to Hogwarts, 221 to Castelobruxo, 81 to Koldovstoretz, and 241 to remain at home--or go into hiding,” he said. 

They all sat in silence for a few minutes, trying to process the information and grief. Étienne was first to speak. 

“I’m going to the library,” he said, standing up. 

Dante watched his friend walk half the length of the Great Hall before he, too, got up.

“Where is he going?” Allegra asked, perturbed. “The doors are the other way.”

Dante stopped over at the Gryffindor table, speaking to someone.

“He must be getting Nicolas,” Giorgio said. 

“Martel?” Dieter asked. 

“Yes,” said Giorgio. “Nicolas and Étienne are best friends.” 

Allegra put a hand on his forearm. “Are _you_ all right, Giorgio?”

Giorgio smiled bitterly. “To be honest, no. Owlpost to and from France has been extremely slow. Vega and I combined our post. All nine of us, actually,” he corrected. “We compared lists of who we were writing to, and combined our owlpost. Of the thirteen people Vega and I wrote, only two have responded, and neither of them live in France.”

“That must be really difficult,” Dieter said, clapping one hand on Giorgio's shoulder. “If there’s anything we can do to help, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Thank you,” said Giorgio. He shook his head and smiled self-deprecatingly. “Now I feel bad. You two are Vega’s cousins, yet you’re consoling me instead of Vega.”

Dieter shook his head and Allegra gave him a funny look. 

“Vega is no stranger to grief,” Allegra said. “And if anything, you probably need to comfort more than she does.”

“Besides,” Dieter added, “You’ve been supporting her all this time while Allegra and I have been twiddling our thumbs. You’re Vega's best friend. You’re as good as family.” He gestured to the newspaper in front of Giorgio. “Shall we move onto less exciting topics?”

  
  


Giorgio, Allegra, and Dieter’s discussion of German and French politics was interrupted by the sound of metal ringing against glass. Everyone looked to the High Table. Professor Flitwick stopped tapping his spoon against his glass as Professor McGonagall stood up. “Students, I have an announcement to make,” she said.

The Great Hall hushed. 

“The Board of Governors and I had decided after the attack on Beauxbatons that we would do our best to help however we could while still considering the safety of Hogwarts and its inhabitants. We reached out to the French Ministry of Magic, and explained our decision. Normally, we probably would have invited the Academy to come to Hogwarts, allowing them to operate as a separate school, albeit one sharing quarters and classroom space with us, perhaps with the bonus of some classes shared between us. Unfortunately, Madame Maxime’s death has been confirmed, as has her deputy headmistress, Madame Babin. More than half of the faculty have perished in the tragedy or as a result of injuries from the attack. Those who have been accounted for are not available at the moment. Under these circumstances, we will be accepting transfers from Beauxbatons, rather than implementing any sort of exchange program or the like.

“Please be aware that these students who are transferring in, like their brethren whom you have already met, are dealing with grief and many other troubles. I expect all of you to be sensible if not sensitive, civil if not kind, and professional if not collegial. Please do your best to make these new transfers feel welcome here at Hogwarts. Thank you,” she said, sitting back down.

Professor Flitwick stood up on his chair this time. “Thank you, Headmistress,” he said. “Now, what this means is that there will be another sorting ceremony for the transfer students. The new students will arrive en masse this Friday. Everyone is expected to attend dinner the evening of the twenty-third. That is all. Please continue your breakfasts.”

The Great Hall returned to its normal din. 

“What did she mean by ‘not available at the moment’?” Dante asked Giorgio.

Giorgio’s lips thinned. “They’re probably under investigation,” he said.

“Investigation?” another third year asked. Giorgio thought she might be one of the Pucey siblings. 

Giorgio answered as he started gathering his belongings. “Nearly half of the Academy perished in the attack. They have to make sure that none of the staff was involved in helping the attackers get access.” He slipped an apple into his bag for a mid-morning snack. “I’ll see you all later,” he said, nodding to them. He headed over to the Ravenclaw table.

  
  


As Giorgio walked over to the Ravenclaw table, he heard Vega’s roommate Willia groan, “Vega, how in the world aren’t you hungover this morning? You’re the smallest one of us, too.”

Vega looked at Willia with gentle amusement. _I had a lovely bowl of soup and some ginger tea before bed._ She nodded towards her teacup. _Would you like some?_

Willia smacked her lips and focused her gaze on Vega. “Ginger tea? Sure. Anything will help at this point.”

Vega poured Willia a cup. _Cassonade or honey?_

“Cassonade?” Willia asked. She peeked in the bowl. “Is that …”

“Muscovado,” Auguste supplied from Vega’s side.

“Ah,” Willia said. “I’ll have the honey instead, please.”

Vega nodded and levitated both the teacup and honey over to Willia.

Giorgio made eye contact with Vega. She made to pour a cup for him, but he shook his head at her. She raised a brow.

“The Zabinis had coffee and carbonara readied for breakfast,” he explained. 

Molly Weasley looked up. “Shall I make room?” she asked.

Giorgio nodded. “If it isn’t too much trouble, Molly.”

Molly placed a hand on Alexander’s arm. The boy looked up at Giorgio, and obligingly slid over. Molly did likewise. 

Giorgio sat down between Molly and Vega. “Guess what we’re brewing in potions today,” he said.

Vega whistled low and abruptly high.

“Erumpent potion,” he said, grinning.

Vega grinned back. Then she looked thoughtful. She whistled _do_ and _re_ , both long notes. She followed with three short notes, _mi-re-do_.

Giorgio shrugged. He whistled high, then low, followed by two chirps.

Vega chirped twice.

Auguste looked at them, frowned, then sighed. “Just be careful you don’t get caught,” he said. “And for Merlin’s sake, please don’t land yourselves in the infirmary.”

Giorgio looked at Auguste, flabbergasted. “You can understand us?”  
“I don’t, but I know Vega’s facial expressions,” Auguste said.

“Oh,” Giorgio said, relieved. 

Willia asked, “The two of you have a whistling code? Is it only the two of you? Or are there other people who know it?”

Vega was chewing so Giorgio answered. “Well, Vega developed most of it with her younger sister. I asked her to teach me when we met in first year. One of our other yearmates knows it well. A few others know a little, but otherwise only the four of us,” he said.

Auguste’s friend, (Antonio? Toby? Giorgio couldn’t recall) said, “That’s brilliant! I don’t know why James, Fred, and I have never thought to think up a code or a secret language.” He jumped up from his seat and rushed off. Giorgio presumed to find his friends.

Auguste’s other friend, Robert, groaned and muttered under his breath. He looked at Giorgio and Vega tiredly. “I wish you hadn’t done that in front of Anthony. He and the Weasley-Potter cousins are going to be insufferable. Especially if they can get away with more shenanigans,” he said, very put-upon. He gave Auguste a look. “You told us your childhood friend was a sweet child. All I see is a devious troublemaker who knows entirely too much magic, and too many languages,” he said accusingly.

Giorgio snorted and Vega grinned at Robert. Auguste laughed. “She was a sweet child! If you got on her bad side, though, she would bite,” he said.

Giorgio said between snorts of laughter, “Have you met Allegra Zabini and Dieter de Stauf? Do you really think a cousin of theirs would be unable to fend for herself?”

Robert shook his head. “Of course not! De Stauf is a _beater,_ quidditch captain, _and_ prefect. Zabini is a _Zabini_. But just because someone is able to fend for themselves, doesn’t mean they’re a troublemaker!”

Giorgio scoffed. “Vega and I aren’t troublemakers. We have perfect school records,” he said snidely. Next to him, Vega nodded with wide eyes, doing her best impression of an innocent schoolchild. 

Robert looked at Giorgio and Vega, then beseechingly at Auguste who shrugged, then at Molly and Alexander. 

Molly raised both brows. “I haven’t seen her do anything questionable,” she said.

Alexander nodded in agreement. 

Giorgio smiled disarmingly at Robert, who shuddered. He glanced at Vega’s plate. It was empty. Auguste caught his eye and nodded minutely.

“Well, that settles that. Shall we go to potions, Vega?” Giorgio said, standing up. He offered a hand to her.

Vega finished her tea before she took his hand. She picked up her bag. 

Molly and Alexander stood too. Molly said, “We’ll come with you, if you don’t mind?”

“Of course not,” Giorgio said. 

“Willia, are you coming with us?” Molly said to her friend.

Willia groaned. “No. I need some more time,” she mumbled into her teacup. “Or maybe a new brain.”

  
  


They made it to potions with time to spare. Professor Flint wasn’t in the room, but she must be in the ingredient storage room or her office. Otherwise, the classroom would have been locked.

The Joshi twins sat together, and the Shacklebolt twins right next to them. Giorgio watched Vega spare a second look at the table, stare for a few seconds, then sit across the aisle from them, at the very front of the classroom. 

Giorgio sat next to her. 

Alexander and Molly sat two rows behind he and Vega. 

One of the Joshis got up from his seat. As he approached, Giorgio noticed the prefect badge pinned to his robes. Ah. Niraj Joshi, then.

“Hello,” Niraj said. “You must be Vega Lang, Giorgio’s best mate, yes? It’s good to meet you. You’ve met my brother Vayu already. I’m Niraj Joshi.” He held his hand out to Vega.

Vega took his hand. She looked amused. _Good to meet you too, Joshi. Yes, I’ve met Vayu already. Is it just the two of you, and the twins in first year? Or have the four of you more siblings? More twins, perhaps? Or triplets, even?_

Niraj grinned. “You’ve met Aruna and Savitri, too? Fortunately, it’s _just_ the two sets of twins. _Unfortunately_ for our poor parents, no, it isn’t just the four of us. Our eldest brother is in Gryffindor. He’s in his seventh year. We’ve also a brother in third year. He’s in Hufflepuff.”

Giorgio and Vega absorbed this information. 

Giorgio spoke what they were both thinking. “Were your parents desperate for a daughter?” he asked.

Niraj laughed. “Yes, yes they were. My poor mother. She had an heir and two _more_ spares, in two tries. She and my father both wanted a girl, though. They tried again, and got Agni, who was a right terror, so they decided they were done. The younger twins were a surprise. The healers told my parents they were both boys, though. I can’t imagine what my poor mother’s thoughts were when she thought she was expecting her fifth and sixth sons.”

“I take it Savitri is their favorite child?” Giorgio asked.

Niraj nodded, still smiling. “She’s everyone’s favorite, to be honest. Don’t let my older brother Nitin fool you. He had such a bad temper until Savitri was born. Even Agni calmed down a bit once he had some younger siblings to boss around.”

Vega peeked over at Niraj’s table. Niraj looked over as well. 

“Ah, yes. Those are the Shacklebolt twins. They looked nearly identical until our third year,” he said. 

They heard him, clearly, as the girl spoke up. “Are you talking about us, Niraj?”

“Just explaining to Passerini and Lang how your brother was as pretty as you until third year, when he started turning into a walking bush, and you blossomed like a rose, Sarah,” he called back.

Sarah and Oliver Shacklebolt gave Niraj matching two-fingered salutes. Niraj shrugged and waved back cheerily, while Vayu gave him an unimpressed look.

Giorgio snorted, and Vega huffed. 

Niraj grinned at them both. He checked his watch. “I need to help Vayu prep a bit before class starts. I’ll see you both around,” he said. He returned to his seat.

The classroom had started filling up during their chat. Willia Sawyer trudged in, still looking green. She sat beside Molly Weasley. A Ravenclaw Giorgio didn’t recognize sat beside Willia.

No one sat besides he and Vega. There were a few other open spots around the classroom, but Giorgio wondered if the rest of their classmates had refrained due to shyness, or because they wanted to see what the two transfers were capable of--more so Vega than Giorgio, of course.

He and Vega rolled up their sleeves. Vega moved her wand holster from her forearm to her bicep. 

Giorgio frowned. “Since when has it done _that?_ ” he asked.

Vega looked up at him. She shrugged. _I got bored in the hospital wing._ She slid her wand from the elbow up, into the holster. 

Giorgio looked at it a bit more. “The strap design is really clever,” he said.

Vega whistled two low notes, thanking him. She started setting up her station, pulling a roll of parchment, quill, and inkwell out of her bag.

“Oh, here,” he said, opening his bag. “My mother sent an extra set for you.” He set a rectangular box and journal before her.

Vega opened the box. She whistled two low notes again, and grinned widely at him. She pulled the fountain pen out of the box. 

“I was able to commandeer my mother’s pen when she and my father visited,” he explained, holding up his own pen. “But only because she had one on her. When she started sending me new school supplies, I guess she realized you would have lost the pen I gave you when we were in first year.”

Vega nodded. She opened the journal, uncapped her new pen and wrote. _I shall write to thank her._

“All right, everyone settle down, please,” Professor Flint said as she entered the classroom from her office. 

Vega wrote something. Giorgio waited a half a minute after she finished to read it. 

Meanwhile, Professor Flint looked over her class. “Mr. Hargrave, stop talking with Miss Davies,” she said. “Your time is better served prepping your station, both of you.”

Giorgio read Vega’s message with a quick movement of the eyes. 

_Should we have sat in the back instead? We cannot take the measure of the room at the front._

Giorgio wrote a reply in his own journal. _Normally, yes. However, not for your first class. Everyone is curious about you. Let’s give them a show._

Vega waited to read his reply. He saw her nod a fraction of an inch.

Professor Flint waved her wand at the board. Instructions for Erumpent Potion appeared. “Now,” the professor said, crossing her arms, “you will be brewing an Erumpent Potion today. What is the first step to making this potion? Why is it of utmost importance? Yes, Miss Allard.”

Amelia Allard answered. “The first step is to prepare a prophylactic paste and apply it to all uncovered skin. Without it, if the potion splashes on us during brewing or worse, after completion, we risk losing skin, limbs, or lives.”

“Correct, Miss Allard. Two points to Slytherin. Based on what you have all read regarding the erumpent potion, can anyone guess what goes into this preventative paste?” Professor Flint asked.

Giorgio leaned back in his seat so he could casually look back at his classmates. It helped that Professor Flint liked to pace up and down the center aisle when she lectured. No one raised their hand. 

Professor Flint smiled with teeth. “If no one will raise their hand, then I shall pick volunteers at random,” she said. She made her way back to the front of the room and turned to face everyone. “Mr. Vayu Joshi, what do you think?”

Vayu looked up from his notes. “If I must guess, then perhaps Sylphium or Cornflowers, Professor. For their healing properties,” he answered.

“Very good. Five points to Ravenclaw,” Professor Flint said, nodding. Her gaze roved over the classroom. They settled in the back. “Mr. Boyce? Any guesses?”

Gavin Boyce scratched his arms nervously. “Er, leeks, Professor? To remain unharmed?”

Professor Flint mulled over Boyce’s answer. “It is a good guess,” she said. “ One point to Slytherin. Leeks can be used as a substitute for one of the ingredients in this paste, though the paste would be subpar. What would it substitute?” 

Still, no one deigned to raise their hand. Or did they not dare, Giorgio wondered? As he pondered this, his and the professor’s eyes met. She glanced at his and Vega’s spare notes, then at the two of them, her gaze lingering on their rolled sleeves, finally ending on Vega’s wand holster.

“Miss Lang, I see that you have recovered from your injuries. Hopefully you have studied so that you may leave my classroom today without more. Would you like to tell us what you think?” Professor Flint asked.

Vega angled her body towards Giorgio and the professor. She drew her wand and flicked it. _Sempervivum tectorum, Professor. Protection against lightning and fire._

Professor Flint smiled. “That is correct. What is its common name, Miss Lang?”

Vega blinked slowly. She waved her wand with a lazy twist of her wrist. _Donderbloem._

Professor Flint’s eyebrows rose. “Apt as the Dutch name may be, for the sake of your classmates, do you know the English name?”

Vega considered the question for a few seconds before she shook her head. 

Professor Flint waved her wand, and more writing appeared on the chalkboard. “Donderbloem, Old Dutch for ‘thunder flower.’ Commonly known as the houseleek. For the preventative paste used whilst brewing Erumpent potion, it is far more preferred than Allium Porrum, the leek. While the leek protects against wounds, the houseleek will protect against lightning and fire, and explosions of the erumpent variety are very similar to either.” She turned to address Vega. “Five points to Ravenclaw, Miss Lang.”

Giorgio saw some covert glances amongst the Slytherins students. He repressed the urge to grimace. 

“All right. Quills and notes away. You have half an hour to make your preventative pastes. If it is not of adequate quality, you shall not be allowed to brew the Erumpent potion,” Professor Flint said as she carefully rolled her sleeves up.

  
  


The Professor tested students’ pastes by having them apply it to their hands, and then holding a finger in blue flames, which she conjured. 

The first pair to test their paste were the Joshi twins, followed closely by Molly and Alexander. Giorgio and Vega were third.

Giorgio rubbed the paste into his hands while Professor Flint waited. She levitated the blue flames closer to Giorgio so he could reach them. He stuck his pinky finger in and waited for a span of ten seconds before removing it. The professor nodded approvingly before moving on to other students.

Giorgio and Vega slathered the paste onto their hands, arms, faces and necks. Vega frowned at a blob of paste on her hands. She looked at Giorgio, distaste clear on her face.

“What is it?” Giorgio asked.

Vega drew in a slow breath. She rubbed the paste between her fingers, sighed once, then resolutely started rubbing her fingers into her scalp and hair. 

Giorgio’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh. I see,” he said. He sighed, and did the same. 

Murmurs increased in the classroom. Giorgio was sure they were being stared at. He heard a female giggle. Then a snide voice saying, “Is all this really necessary? Plus, having to fire-proof your hair? Ugh. Can’t we just cast the bubble-head charm?”

“Miss Martin,” Professor Flint said sternly, “if you were as astute as Miss Lang and Mr. Passerini, you would have noticed that I have yet to set out ingredients for the Erumpent Potion, for precisely the reasons you are derisive of Miss Lang and Mr. Passerini’s precaution. One of the main indicators of an unstable Erumpent potion is its smell. Should you use the bubble-head charm, you would run the risk of missing those signs. Additionally, the charm itself makes a corporeal substance--a bubble--around your head. It isn’t an incorporeal bubble. What do you think will happen if the potion you are brewing splatters onto your bubble?” 

Georgina Martin said something very quietly.

“Louder, please, Miss Martin. The entire class needs to hear this,” said Professor Flint.

“It will explode?” Martin said. 

“Yes. It will explode,” the professor agreed. She turned to address the class. “Do make sure to apply the paste to all exposed skin. If you wish to maintain your vanity, you ought to apply it to your hair as well,” she said dryly. “Afterwards, an impervious charm will do the trick for your clothing.”

  
  


Near the end of the double period, the Shacklebolts managed to accidentally blow up part of their table. The Joshis, who used the adjacent table, looked on in horror as debris from the explosion landed into their cauldron. Giorgio wasn’t sure which twin, but one of them threw himself on his brother just before their cauldron exploded, while the other one shouted “ _Protego Maxima!!_ ”

While their quick thinking had kept their classmates from becoming injured, Vayu had simultaneously concussed Niraj and shattered his own elbow. While the Shacklebolt twins were scolded by Professor Flint and made to help the Joshi twins to the infirmary, Giorgio and Vega filled several phials with their own potion, and pocketed them in the bustle and confusion. 

Once both sets of twins left, Professor Flint came over to assess Giorgio and Vega’s potion.

The table behind theirs put up a shield. Professor Flint then put up a cylindrical shield around Giorgio and Vega’s cauldron. Vega then levitated a drop of potion from their cauldron out of the shielded area before Professor Flint enclosed their cauldron completely. Vega levitated the drop of potion above a large sea sponge. She let it drop. It exploded with a tiny **pop** , leaving a singed black mark and the smell of burnt sponge.

Professor Flint let go of her shield, and gestured to the table behind theirs that they could do the same. She cast _evanesco_ on the contents of their cauldron. “An O for the day. The two of you may leave the classroom once your stations are cleared,” she said.

  
  


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Their last class of the day was herbology, during which they harvested ginger, repotted it, cleaned it, and sliced and arranged it on drying pans. By the end of class, everyone was sweaty and more than a few were covered in dirt.

Giorgio took off his apron and gloves, putting them away in an extra bag. When he returned from washing his hands, Vega, Molly, and Alexander were just starting to take off their own gloves and aprons. 

Giorgio looked at Vega and clicked his tongue. Vega rolled her eyes as she shucked her gloves and apron. She shook them out before carefully folding them inside out and putting them away.

Her arms, from wrist to elbow, the rolled-up inside of her sleeves, her trouser legs, and her boots were all dirt stained. There was dirt on her cheek too, and a piece of leaf had woven itself into her hair. Giorgio sighed. Vega shrugged and went to wash her hands.

Molly and Alexander watched Giorgio and Vega. Molly with bemusement, and Alexander with mirth in his eyes. 

“Alexander,” Molly said as she folded her apron. “What’s so funny?”

Alexander shook his head. “Giorgio, are you and Vega childhood friends?” 

Giorgio looked up from dusting off his robes. “If by childhood friends, you mean did we know each other before Beauxbatons, then no. We met in our first year at the academy,” he said, trying not to frown. What was Alexander playing at? Everyone knew by now that Vega had disappeared off the face of the Earth between the Arsonist Summer and beginning tuition at Beauxbatons. 

Alexander laughed. “The dynamic between you two reminds me of a mother hen and chick,” he said. “Although the chick in this case seems to run the show.”

Giorgio exhaled, relieved. “If you think I’m run off my feet with Vega, you should meet my childhood friend Amadeo,” he said, smiling wryly.

“What is Amadeo like?” Molly asked.

“Intense,” Giorgio said. “All he cares about is composing music and playing his cello. He’ll go the whole day without eating if you let him. He’ll compose music, play, curse, drink coffee, and then start the cycle over. Growing up, all the adults expected me to keep an eye on him, even though he’s older than I am.”

Alexander and Molly both laughed. Vega returned and looked at them curiously. 

“Giorgio was just telling us about his friend Amadeo,” Molly explained.

Vega grinned. She waved her wand. _I like Amadeo. He’s hardworking and funny._

Giorgio raised an eyebrow. “Funny?”

Vega nodded. _He reminds me of my grandfather. Obsessive, compulsive, and always getting ink on his hands and face._

Giorgio stared at Vega. Was she being facetious, or did she not realize she had dirt on her face? Some days, he wondered if her mask was so secure she had become it, or if she had always been so careless when she gardened. He would ask her cousins, he decided, as they filed out of the greenhouse and back to the castle.

  
  
  


End notes

Floral Language - I don't have a copy of Charlotte de la Tour, but I do have this book:

Lehner, Ernst and Johanna. _Folklore and Symbolism of Flowers, Plants and Trees: with over 200 Rare and Unusual Floral Designs and Illustrations_. Mineola, NY: Dover Publications, Inc. (2003).

Meanings of the flowers in the bouquets:

Yellow Carnations - Disdain and rejection

Marigolds - grief and sorrow; what is the matter with you?

Petunia - anger and resentment; I am furious!

Rue - morals and mercy

Withered rose - Reproach and fleeting beauty

Camellias - excellence and steadfastness; I shall love you always!

Ivy - attachment and eternal friendship; fidelity and wedded love

Pear blossoms - health and hope

Wallflowers - friendship in adversity; a good luck gift for woman

Étienne’s math - Dante, Giorgio, and Allegra are speaking Italian. Geoffrey and Emma are giving Allegra and Giorgio privacy as they don’t have personal stake in what happened at Beauxbatons. They understand some Italian, but don’t speak it well. They spoke English to Allegra when saving her from choking. When Étienne and later Dieter join the conversation, the conversation remains in Italian. The reading aloud of the newspapers, however, is in the language they are written. So the Italian paper in Italian, the French paper in French. I speak several languages, but I still do simple arithmetic quickest in my first language, and I prefer to count in it. Since the student percentages were all in French, Étienne’s math was quickest because he didn’t have to translate the numbers before doing the mental calculations.

Cassonade/Muscovado - an unrefined sugar. It’s very coarse, large-grained, and delicious. I love cane sugar. My parents and relatives used to buy us kiddos sugarcane stalks to chew on when we were young. It’s delicious. You chew the cane, suck the juice out, and spit out the fibers. I could never finish a full cane, though. I have been known to taste granulated or coarse sugar as is on occasion. 

It’s my opinion (it’s weird, I know) that until you personally see someone eat, they’re not human. It’s true anyway. If you never see someone eat, either they’re masquerading as human, or something else is going on. Also, there’s a joke in Chinese that people like to make. Usually, if someone you know hasn’t eaten in a while, perhaps the whole day, you’d say to them, “Have you become a divine being? You don’t need to eat, I see.” Or something along those lines.

Also, if I dislike someone, I definitely avoid trying to eat with them. Why would I want to eat with someone I dislike when I do one of my favorite activities?

I used to have a supervisor who was an alcoholic chainsmoker. I never saw him eat. I saw him drink coffee and water, and I suspected he would tipple in the last half hour before his shift ended. I would joke to my coworkers that he wasn’t human. I didn’t dislike him, though. A supervisor who I hated did eat like a normal person. I always avoided eating with him, or being in the same space if he was eating.

Don’t worry. I wasn’t trying to dehumanize him. I knew perfectly well just how very human he was. Sorry. *laughs* I am alternatively optimistic and cynical about the nature of human beings.

→ Anyway. Giorgio obviously went to Molly Weasley’s birthday party. He was dragged there by Allegra, who Vega had gone to fetch. Molly told him to call her by her given name since they were surrounded by Weasleys. He extended the same courtesy. Allegra, Dieter, Auguste, and Giorgio also started calling each other by given names at the party. That happens when you drink and make merry with each other, in my personal experience. 

Whistling - As in chapter 4, and the joke Vega made in chapter 7, Vega has a whistling code/language. She needed to be able to communicate with Leda once she lost her voice, and it couldn’t be in written form since Leda was only two years old. One of the few things Vega could do to make distinct sounds was whistle. Of course, she also pantomimed things, but she was already used to whistling for her younger siblings--tunes and songs--so it wasn’t that big a leap for her to make. She doesn’t know sign language. First and foremost because she grew up in isolation. Second, had she learned a regional variant from where she lived--that would be a clue as to where she lives! It’s not exactly convenient, but generally, she manages. 

Erumpent Potion - there isn’t very much information about this potion, other than that it’s made from parts of an erumpent and explosive. In my canon, I think it would make sense if different parts of the erumpent lends different levels of potency to the potion. Obviously, as minors in a classroom, they wouldn’t be making too powerful of one. But honestly, the fact that they make an EXPLOSIVE potion in fifth year rather than after OWLs is already mind-boggling. So please don’t think about it too closely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that this is the proper spot for my "end notes." However, ao3 kept giving me grief about having too many characters even though I was within the maximum. So I posted them above. *facepalm


End file.
